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The hunter is upon Andrew before he can free himself.
There's a net tangled around him, made of sharp wire that cuts through scales when pressure is applied — and right now, Andrew is applying as much as he can. When he crash-landed, he fell hard on one of his wings; it's twisted and mangled, pressed forcefully tight against his body in the wrong position. The wire is starting to slice through his wing, but Andrew keeps trying to flex it out so he can free himself anyway, because a few scars for his survival aren't a cost he even thinks about anymore.
But the hunter has moved quickly and surprisingly quietly, and Andrew is out of time.
The hunter makes their presence known, footsteps soft against the earth beneath as they tread forward. Andrew struggles and struggles, needing something to break, because if he doesn't get free, there is no promise he will die here. And that'd be preferred, easily, than anything else, so he fights.
But even when he’s so much larger than the size of his human body, with claws and teeth and fire, Andrew still can’t get himself free once he’s been pinned down.
"A dragon," the hunter whispers, voice low and shocked. Andrew catches it like a whisper of the wind, soft, but it cuts through the noise of his struggles nonetheless.
The reaction is almost enough to make Andrew stop and stare in disbelief, because how the fuck is that a shock? This hunter, this boy, should have known exactly what he shot down out of the sky.
Andrew struggles, anger and fear burning through his body — unusual in its intensity, perhaps, but he's never been struck down before, and if he's taken or killed, then who the hell is going to protect the rest of them? He has to live, he has to, and that's a damning thing, but it's all he's got.
The boy — the hunter, the face of Andrew's demise — stumbles as he walks closer. Thin, small. Easy for Andrew to take down if he wasn't tangled in the netting.
"Alright, alright," the hunter says, hands in front of him like he thinks an attempt at placating is going to work, like Andrew is just some animal that will soften and roll over.
Andrew snarls, fighting harder. All for nothing — just for more blood dripping as his injuries deepen. The boy clenches his teeth and looks around frantically before he decides to edge closer. There's a blade in his hand, wielded with familiarity, and Andrew has never quite feared the taste of them before, but right now, there's a visceral reaction upon seeing the weapon in someone else's grip.
"Stop, stop it," the hunter hisses as Andrew’s struggles renew. "They'll come for you. I'll get you out, just— stop."
Andrew just snarls, even as his head spins. This boy is clearly a hunter, nothing more or less, and Andrew's not going to make it easy for him.
"Stop it, stop it," the hunter tells him, more desperate now, as he keeps fervently glancing around the woods. He's still coming closer to Andrew, still with that knife in his hands. The hunter is rambling to himself, having figured out that Andrew isn't going to listen to him, but then he says, "Fuck, you're going to get Riko's attention if you keep—"
Andrew goes still. The hunter does too.
"You know who—” The hunter cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I don't want him finding you here any more than you do. So, just. Let me do this."
This hunter makes less and less sense the more that he talks. Andrew resists, twitching against the netting.
"Come on," he whispers to Andrew. Glances around again. "He's going to be here soon. Let me cut you out."
Andrew doesn't want to let this hunter do anything. He snarls. But slowly, slowly, he goes still. He doesn't believe this hunter will cut him out of anything, won't free him just for the sake of it. Here, Andrew is sure he will die.
Riko won't be merciful. Riko will make it slow. Drawn-out. He will taunt Andrew with his failings, will make Andrew remember just how much he's messed this up for the rest of them.
Maybe, at least, this hunter will race him hurriedly towards death. Won't taunt him, won't ask him questions, won't reminisce on Andrew's failure as he hunts down the rest of Andrew's family. Even if he lies right to Andrew's face, promising to free him, at least he will make death quick.
But no one has ever been quick, even when they promise, and Andrew’s far beyond hoping. But he’s not getting out of this netting, not without the hunter, and he knows it.
"Okay," the hunter breathes out, realising Andrew isn’t fighting against him now. "Okay."
He approaches. Andrew watches each and every step. His heart is beating evenly and slowly in his chest, almost matching each footprint the hunter leaves in the earth. It's a strange thing, wanting to resist death, wanting to fight it. But if it can't be on his own terms, then this, at least, is better than Riko being his executioner.
The hunter drops to his knees. Raises the knife.
He's never quite been one to care about the rituals. About the chants, the hymns, the final prayers.
But now, he can't quite help it. In the back of his mind, in a voice a little too alike to Wymack's, he recites, Let your brothers' fires light the way. Let your sisters' wings take you high—
The knife comes down. He feels it, a small whistle of the wind.
There's no pain. Andrew blinks at the side of the cliff before him, the small drop of earth he tumbled from when he went down. A small white flower, dotted with orange petals, sways at him.
The knife strikes, and Andrew feels it as it catches the ridges of the netting, grating down to his bones. One of the wires slips, trailing down his scales until it hits the ground.
Not a lie, Andrew realises. This hunter truly means to free him.
A trick, then. Free Andrew, and then… what? Do what with him? There are many things worse than death.
Andrew's able to slowly unfurl his wing that's closer to the sky. The other one is still trapped underneath him, pinned all wrong — he's not going to be able to fly away with it. But he can run, if that's what it takes. He can run.
And he can fight.
The hunter keeps cutting, working at the trap that's entangled around him. Keeps cutting and cutting until Andrew thinks now, it has to be now, and he rolls over, pinning the hunter underneath his claws in one quick rush of movement.
The knife clatters to the dirt below. The hunter is looking up at him with wide eyes, heart beating so frantically beneath Andrew's grasp. But still, he doesn't show a single trace of fear as he stares back defiantly.
It'd be easy. So, so easy. Andrew could crush him. Could open his mouth and let fire stream from his tongue, his anger so easy to bring forth and ignite. Could stop the little rabbit-heart beating beneath him so easily.
Bright blue eyes stare up at him. And Andrew hates himself in that moment, because there's no trace of a spark at the back of his throat.
"Riko's coming," the hunter says, hoarse and strangled with the pressure of Andrew pressing down on him, but still fighting to say it anyway. "Hurry up. Make a choice."
Andrew snarls at him. Shows all of his teeth, because this hunter needs to realise who's now become the prey. It would take less than a second to kill this human beneath him.
And still. Still.
The hunter just watches him, hair ruffling with Andrew's breath. His heart is still beating fast, but Andrew knows it’s more from adrenaline than it is out of fear.
His claws tighten for just a moment, imagining what it'd be like to just squeeze, to just let it all end here. To leave those bright blue eyes staring up at the sky above, the very place he'd shot Andrew down from — one of the last mistakes he'd ever make.
He listens out in the forest, extending his hearing beyond the bubble he's made with just this hunter. This boy. He can hear a group of them moving in the forest.
The hunter’s heartbeat picks up. The expression he wears is starting to crack.
Andrew lifts his foot with another snarl, but doesn't give himself or the hunter a moment to think about it. He bounds off in the other direction, leaving the hunter behind him in the dirt.
His left wing is ricocheting with a sharp pain every time he jostles it. He stretches it, just to get a better idea of the injury he’s working with, but he knows he won't be able to fly with it. So he runs and runs through the forest, as fast and as far as he can go. The bread-crumb trail of destruction is easy enough to follow, but Andrew knows he's got enough speed and distance to give himself the advantage.
He runs until the moon is even higher in the sky. Until his legs threaten to give out. He hasn't run like this for a long, long time. He almost trips on himself as he breaks the rhythm of his speed, but he manages to stay upright as he slows. It's only then that he starts to become mindful of the trace that he leaves. He uses his tail to sweep some of the remaining prints that he leaves, then finds a stream to step through to do the rest of the work.
It would, of course, be easier if he could just fly away, but his wing shows no sign of being able to mend in the next few hours. Broken, he knows. He's going to have to get someone to set it in place.
He's careful as he comes to a stop and listens to the sounds around him. He will not lead these hunters back to the sanctuary. They're clearly coming closer to treading into Wymack's territory, but Andrew had been out for recon and to hunt, and he'd obviously gone a little too far into the Moriyama's reach. And usually, Riko's not that good of a shot, but the hunter with wild hair and bright blue eyes, the one who shot him down and then freed him — he must be working with the Moriyamas in some capacity, even if he didn't want Riko to find them.
Andrew won't let himself be the bait. Won't just run right back to the rest of them without being absolutely certain he isn't being followed. The hunter might still prove himself to be a trickster yet, and Andrew's not going to act foolish enough to fall for it.
He keeps moving even as the moon begins to lower, even as exhaustion pulls at him and makes him bone-tired and weary. He's got a good lead, and he's not going to lose it. He has to stray away from the stream of water, a couple of hours from Wymack's territory yet on foot — on paw, as Nicky would probably say, which makes him roll his eyes to himself even as something in his ribs constricts.
He's definitely losing it if he's thinking of Nicky's voice in his head. Then again, Andrew has lost it a few times before, and there are worse voices to hear than his cousin's.
His wing is starting to hurt something vicious now, after all the movement and the adrenaline have faded away, and every step is starting to become a test towards his pain tolerance. Which is high enough on a good day, but Andrew is tired and he can't fly, and he's trapped down here on the ground, and if that little hunter comes, if the Moriyamas come, then Andrew will fight and claw and do whatever it takes, but he isn't free. He can't fly. If something comes — if someone comes — then Andrew is a fish in a barrel. It's only a matter of time until a net keeps him pinned down, until—
He shakes his head and snorts at himself. No use getting caught up in old memories. He's still moving, and his limbs are still under his control even if they’re sore, and he's alone. That's better odds than he's faced before.
His entire body is trembling with exhaustion when he finally crosses Wymack's territory. He walks, and walks, and walks, until he finally sees a figure through the treeline. He could faintly smell her a mile back, but she's finally before him now. He knows that he could have just craned his neck back and roared, or finally ignited that sour taste on the back of his throat, but he wasn't going to signal anyone until they found him first. And now one has; a small figure, compared to his dragon form, but the spread of tails behind her promises she's not one to be trifled with.
She moves quickly when she sees him, brushing against his side with worried chittering. He huffs at her, and when she ends up nudging against his sore wing, he bares his teeth and snaps. She doesn't startle or scare, but rather turns an assessing gaze on him instead.
Before him, Renee shifts, leaving behind her tails and her form to stand as a human and speak. She's naked, with no means to cover herself, but they both know Andrew's gaze isn't going to wander.
"Andrew," she says sharply, trying to frame his jaw in her hands. He lets her, but he keeps moving, because if he stops now, he thinks his legs might just give out. She follows with ease. "Hunters?"
He huffs an affirmative reply. He expects that she'll look behind him, to study the lands, to see if he's been followed. But her eyes never leave his, not doubting him for a moment. She presses her lips together, tense with worry, but she nods.
"Okay," she says, letting her hands drop. She shifts back into her nine-tailed fox form and yips, high and loud, calling for the others when Andrew hasn't bothered to. She doesn't try and stop him as he walks, until they finally clear through the trees, until they finally make it to the heart of Wymack's sanctuary. Houses and halls begin to come into view, and Andrew starts to smell the smoke of fires burning before he sees them trailing into the sky.
They're met by Wymack, Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron. Finally, Renee crowds in front of him, making his slow march come to an end. He stands before them, and Wymack quickly makes his way over, a furrow pressed deep between his eyebrows. It's been a while since he's managed to get that look from Wymack — or, at least, it's been a while since he's managed to catch Wymack directing it at him.
He glances at Renee, but she’s busy nosing against Andrew's leg — physical contact that only she's allowed to get away with — and then makes her way over to Dan, who’s also made an appearance, but is already turning around and leading her into one of the houses so she can lay out some clothes for her.
Wymack's opening his mouth to ask questions, but Aaron cuts in, shouldering his way past.
"You idiot," Aaron grits out, immediately heading for Andrew's wing. "What the hell did you do?"
"Uh, I think it's more what did someone else do—" Nicky tries to cut in, but throws his hands up when Aaron turns and shoots him a withering glare.
"Hunters," Kevin whispers, a touch of horror. He seems to rock back on his feet, like he's going to turn and run from the situation, but then he rocks forward and heads towards Andrew as he demands, "Was it— them? Was it?"
Andrew tilts his head at Kevin in response, not quite giving him the answer. Maybe. Maybe not. Andrew doesn't know what that hunter was. Maybe a Moriyama, and yet somehow, maybe not.
"Don't know why anyone bothers asking him questions," Aaron mutters, waving a dismissive hand in Kevin's direction to make him go away when he steps too close, but his focus doesn't waver far from Andrew's wing. When he gets a little too abrasive with his touches, Andrew whips his neck around and snaps. Aaron rolls his eyes. "Jesus. Maybe don't go breaking it, how about that?"
Andrew's about to snap again, but Wymack cuts in before the situation can devolve further.
"Let's go inside," Wymack says. Their buildings are, at least, big enough to house the turned dragons. He glances over his shoulder and looks at one of the halls, jerking his thumb back to it. "You good to walk there?"
Andrew makes his feet move again. Renee is just coming out of the other house, bringing Abby along with her as she walks, and they follow into the hall. Andrew aches and aches with every single step, a lightning bolt of pain arcing through his wing with every movement, especially as he has to tuck it in towards his body to make it through the large doorway, but he's finally able to make it in, where he slowly and carefully surveys the room.
He waits on all four legs, still standing, forcefully keeping his tail still so it doesn't give away his aggravation.
"Lie down," Wymack tells him immediately. "No one's going to be able to reach your wing like that."
Andrew's pretty sure he's saying it because he knows Andrew isn't willing, just yet, to lie down. To appear vulnerable, even though he's so exhausted. He hates Wymack for it, but he listens.
"Andrew," Abby says carefully, getting his attention. She steps closer when she has it. "I need to take a look at that wing. Will you let me?"
He narrows his eyes, but he gives a huff that they all know to mean he'll allow it. She sighs in relief and quickly makes her way forward, and he hears her worried tutting under her breath as she starts to inspect his wing. Aaron moves forward with her, meeting Andrew's eyes as he does, but Andrew is too exhausted to bother starting that argument if he tries to refuse the help.
Wymack stands in front of him, arms folded, carefully looking him over. Andrew meets his stare and waits with a blank expression, ignoring Abby and Aaron as they prod at his wing and carefully start to go about setting it, until finally Wymack breaks first.
"Ready to talk about it?" Wymack asks. Andrew stares. Wymack rolls his eyes and turns to look at Nicky. "You're up."
Nicky is frozen for a moment, but then nods. He gives Andrew a small, tense smile as he shifts.
He’s a drake, and a smaller one at that, but he still takes up the remaining space left in the room. He takes a moment to settle into his limbs — it’s been a while since Nicky’s shifted, and Andrew can see the slight discomfort he’s still carrying, still unable to shake even after all these years.
He's clearly nervous. Even in this form, he's still so clearly human. He shifts on his feet, anxious. But he's a little braver than anyone else seems to give him credit for, as he's the first to break their silent stalemate. He rumbles low, sounds easier to communicate with when they're both dragons.
The Moriyamas? Nicky asks.
Andrew tilts his head again. Nicky sighs, evidently tired of Andrew's lack of replies lately, but he pushes forward.
How did they get you? What happened with your wing?
He attempts to move forward and brush his head against Andrew’s other wing, but Andrew glares at him for that. Nicky makes the movement of a shrug and settles back.
Andrew, Nicky rumbles, a weak attempt at a scolding, apparently trying to change tactics. We need to know what we're up against. How did they get you?
Andrew considers silence a moment longer, but he's not going to shift into a human anytime soon and they all know it, and Andrew knows he has to relay this information. He has to do his best to keep them safe, especially when he's just been downed for the next couple of weeks.
Shot me out of the sky, Andrew rumbles back. He sees Nicky's and Wymack's surprise, because Andrew hasn't made an attempt to communicate in anything more than a couple of simple commands for weeks now. Wymack shuts his expression down quickly, but Nicky's surprise lingers. He shifts back to relay the information to the rest of them, and Abby hums under her breath sympathetically.
"Some terribly sharp wiring," she says softly, and he can feel her fingers dancing further than his wings. He snarls in warning, and she obediently pulls her fingers back in range of the most damaged area of his wing. She talks to Aaron, walking him through setting the wing as Wymack and Nicky get out of his biting and firing range, and she only gives Andrew a short countdown — that she doesn't follow — before she sets something back in place. He bites down on a noise in his throat, but his ears ring for a few more moments as everyone in the room lets out a sigh of relief.
"Should heal just fine," Abby says, splinting and bandaging what she can now that the biggest problem is out of the way. It’s a big job, and she’s quietly puffed by the end of it. "No shifting, no flying. Check in with me every week, sooner if it hurts."
"Like he'd shift anyway," Aaron mutters. Wymack, close to him, looks like he's considering smacking Aaron upside the head. He manages to, unfortunately, thwart the urge, so Andrew swats Aaron with his tail instead. Aaron scowls at him and rubs the back of his head. "Don't be a dick."
Wymack clicks his tongue. "Enough, or you're both sleeping outside."
"Outside is fine for a dragon," Nicky reminds him.
"You’re close enough, so do you want to sleep outside, Hemmick?"
"Nope," Nicky replies quickly, miming his lips shutting, though immediately takes back the effectiveness of that action as he says, "Nope, I'm good to be inside. Nice and warm."
"You're sure you weren't followed?" Aaron asks, coming around to Andrew's front now that the wing is dealt with. Abby remains, cleaning up some of the deeper wounds against his scales, and Andrew ignores the fact that he hears her say, you put up a good fight, Andrew.
Andrew glares at him. Wymack steps in with a, "He wouldn't have come back here if he was."
He sounds certain about it. Andrew isn't grateful for the apparent trust, because he and Wymack are at an understanding with each other — Wymack knows he wouldn't dare to put any of them in the line of sight. Not when he's got a promise to them, not when he's promised Kevin that he'll keep him protected from the Moriyamas. And Wymack wouldn't let Andrew come back here if he believed otherwise.
"So it was definitely them?" Kevin asks in the corner of the room, sitting down with his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair.
"Unclear," Nicky coughs, glancing uncertainly at Andrew. "But I, uh, think so?"
"Andrew?" Kevin asks, afraid.
Andrew snorts. Not going to be a problem, Day.
The hunter that shot him down then freed him is a confusing part of the equation, but the answer is the same — these hunters, Moriyamas or not, aren't going to touch Kevin, aren't going to touch his family, and Andrew will get up and protect them as many times as it takes.
"How long were you running?" Abby asks quietly, like she doesn't expect an answer, as she looks over his legs. He raises them as she needs, because he knows unless he gets the all-clear from Abby no one's going to have any faith he isn't hiding any other injuries.
Nicky holds up fingers, counting out hours, his face dropping further and further the longer it takes Andrew to huff at him in confirmation. He lost track, but he knows it'd taken the better part of all night to get back to Wymack's territory.
"At least they're still a ways off," Wymack says, running a hand over his face tiredly. "But we'll strengthen the patrols and borders. No one's allowed to go out on their own. Andrew, good job getting back here."
Andrew tilts his head in acknowledgment. Wymack turns and leaves the hall to relay the orders around to the rest of the sanctuary, and Kevin looks torn for a moment about whether he should follow or stay, but resolutely remains sulking in the corner.
Abby finishes up her treatment, mouth pulled in an unpleasant way whenever one of them comes back injured. She comes back around to his front, hands crossing in front of herself like she's restraining from reaching out for him again.
"Everything should heal up okay," she says. "Maybe a couple of scars on the deeper ones. Andrew, seriously, let me know if something hurts in the meantime. Especially your wing. It's not too bad, and you should be up and flying in about a month, but that's only if you don't push it too soon. Okay?"
He acknowledges her with a whuff of air that brushes her hair back. She sighs, but she nods in acceptance. Renee curls a hand around her arm and leads her out of the hall, leaving only Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin in here with him.
He considers getting up and moving, but he knows no one will disturb him in this hall, so he remains settled where he is. He's exhausted, and it's all starting to crash into him now. Walking fucking sucks. A month is too long for him to remain grounded, but he knows he faced the very real possibility of not being able to come back at all. The boy, the hunter, with bright blue eyes is the reason why.
What an annoying little problem, he thinks. Hopefully he never comes across him again.
"I'll go get you some food," Nicky says. He looks like he's about to reach out for Andrew, but he shakes his head and sighs. "Glad you made it back, Andrew. Seriously."
And with that, he walks out of the hall. Andrew watches him go, thinking about the moment he heard Nicky's voice in the back of his mind in the forest as he ran for his life. Dragons and those alike can typically hide the sound of their heartbeats to each other, but Nicky's always let his been so easy to hear. And there was not a hitch in the rhythm, not a single lie to be detected, as he spoke to Andrew.
Kevin finally gets his head out of his hands, but it only happens as Andrew's blinks start to get slower and longer and he's considering sleep. He grumbles lowly as he's pulled from it as Kevin makes his way over, but Kevin's worked up enough that he doesn't notice — or care — about his disruption.
He walks around Andrew carefully, keeping out of striking or sweeping range, as he inspects the wounds he can see. Finally, he settles back with a pinch to his mouth.
"What?" Aaron eventually asks, impatient, elbowing him in the side.
Kevin scowls at him, swatting back, but otherwise lets it be. He regards Andrew for another moment and then asks, "How'd you get out of that netting?"
If anyone knows how the Moriyama weaponry and trappings work, then it’s certainly Kevin. And he knows Andrew shouldn’t have been able to get out of it alone — not when the wounds are so deep, when Andrew clearly fought against it so much.
Andrew doesn’t acknowledge Kevin’s question. He stretches out his one good wing and resettles himself, curling his tail around so it covers more of his side.
When Kevin understands he's not going to get an answer, he scowls. He hasn't asked Andrew to shift back, not since asking for his protection, and he can't ask for it now when Andrew's been put on mandatory no-shifting rules.
"They shot him out of the sky," Aaron, surprisingly, steps in. His voice is neutral, carefully plain and uninterested, but Andrew knows damn well he has to have some interest in this conversation to even bother with it. "He could've untangled himself before the landing. Or after. Those nets aren't impossible to cut through, Kevin. You put too much faith in the Moriyamas' equipment."
"You put too little," Kevin snaps. "They wouldn't have just let a dragon go. Especially not with..." He hesitates. Falters. A cloudy expression crosses his face.
"Enlighten us," Aaron goads. "Not with what, Kevin?"
Kevin shakes his head, the clouds clearing as his expression turns into a familiar scowl.
"Not with who," Kevin corrects.
Aaron waits a moment, then throws out his hands. "Okay, then not with who, you fucking obtuse asshole?"
He's more agitated than he usually is, quicker to temper. Andrew puts that in the back of his mind to dissect later. The conversation right now in front of him has to have his full attention, even as it wavers with all of his exhaustion.
"I have to be wrong. Andrew..." He shakes his head again and corrects himself, "Any dragon wouldn't have a hope if I were right. And it's just rumours, anyway. Probably spread by Riko himself."
"And what are they?"
Thank the fucking gods Aaron has an interest in this conversation, because he's at least pestering Kevin to the kind of degree Andrew would want to if he had the ability to use his mouth.
"The Butcher doesn't run with Riko," Kevin says. Andrew almost sits right back up at that mention, because it's been a long while since he's heard that name. Long-time, long-feared, dragon-slayer. The worst known — the very man who wiped out so many of them, put them all on the brink of extinction and the rest into hiding. But he hasn't been spotted around these islands, and information has kept him pinned rather safely a few continents away. "But he has a son. Riko was meant to have him, but his mother ran away with him before that transfer could happen. We thought he was dead, but there was a rumour, right before I left, that he'd been spotted. That Riko was going to get him."
"The Butcher has a son?" Nicky interrupts them with, coming back into the hall with a bowl of food. It's mostly vegetables, but there's some cooked fish in there — not Andrew's favourite, but he knows Abby's going to insist on it.
"Who was trained to be another dragon hunter for the Moriyamas," Kevin confirms, voice heavy. "So, like I said. If he was with them, then Andrew..."
"Well, okay, way to not have faith in the guy. I'm sure Andrew could still beat him, you know," Nicky says, but there's a hitch in his heartbeat.
That's fair, Andrew supposes. He knows he'd be able to take on Riko with ease, but The Butcher is, he knows, another story altogether. Andrew's heard tales plenty, and he's not arrogant enough to think he'd be able to come out of a fight unscathed — Renee humbles him well enough, even when they're both shifted.
"It's the fucking Butcher," Aaron says harshly, shaking his head, not having bothered to listen to Nicky's heartbeat and call him out on the obvious. "None of us would have a hope if we were caught out there."
He's right. He's right. But Andrew wants to know what The Butcher looks like. If he has wild, unruly auburn hair. If his eyes are as bright a blue as that hunter's.
But if that boy was The Butcher's son, then he should have, would have, killed Andrew. He wouldn't have cut the netting. He wouldn't have even bothered using Andrew as bait to lead him back to the rest of them. He would have killed him right there and then. Messily, slowly, but he would have done it. He would have known every angle to use that blade, would have known every weak point Andrew physically has in his dragon form. Getting Riko, instead of The Butcher or his offspring, would have been a mercy.
"Right," Kevin says. "Yeah. So I... It mustn't be him. Riko mustn't have him. So."
"Okay," Aaron stretches out the word with a sarcastic edge. "Glad you came to that conclusion."
Andrew huffs, and Nicky decides to remember that he's got the bowl of food in his hands. He hurries over and places it in front of him. "Yeah, sorry, I know, the fish. But Abby said— Nevermind, you know what she said, right? So. You know. Eat up."
He's chattering too much, anxiety keeping his heart rate high, but it starts to lower when Andrew rolls his eyes and brings the bowl closer to him. He eats slowly, stomach roiling after everything, but he finishes it. Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin stay in the room, long after Andrew falls asleep first.
It's a long, tense month.
But there are no attacks. Riko Moriyama isn't spotted much closer to their sanctuary, and there's no evidence that The Butcher — or any acquaintances — have made their way to Riko's side of the map. Wymack keeps them in line, their patrols tight, and his ear to the ground. Still, there doesn't seem to be any changes — Andrew just went a little too far and got unlucky, it seems.
His wing heals. He heals faster than most other shifters, but it's still a tedious month being grounded for so long. Abby walks him through exercises with his wing, strengthening it as he works back up to flying, until he's finally able to get back in the sky. The emotion of relief is hard to grasp, but he thinks his first breath up in the sky comes a little easier than most other breaths do these days, so it counts for something.
Kevin becomes restless, both awake and asleep. At night, he moves enough that it disturbs Andrew in their shared house. He's taken to sleeping closer to Kevin, whuffing against him when he starts to mutter and toss and turn, which seems to do enough to snap him out of it. When it isn't enough, a little whack with the fins of his tail does the rest of the work for him. During the day, though, Kevin becomes even more distant. He's still on everyone's asses to fight, to train, to shift, but Andrew catches more and more moments where he stares out into the forest with a twisted expression.
He's not the only one. Despite Andrew's best attempts, he can't quite stop thinking about the bright blue-eyed hunter.
And he is a hunter. Under everything, Andrew had been able to catch the faint trace of blood, the type of destruction under his scent that only follows those who've killed. Not fresh, not many. But he has, certainly. Andrew can remember that. He can remember it with such clarity, like it's a scene made of clay in his mind, tangible enough for him to pull apart and inspect every single inch.
Yet, he freed Andrew. So he’s not The Butcher's son — or he shouldn't be, at least.
Andrew's not sure what to make of this hunter. Riko won’t have someone in his company who isn’t willing to go for the kill. He certainly won’t share his territory, either. So who the hell is he?
Slowly, Wymack starts to ease up on their measures around the sanctuary, assured that Riko hasn't come any closer to their borders. Andrew patrols with Renee, just because he can stand her company, and she's able to keep up with him even on the ground. Which maybe doesn't count, as she can jump distances that may as well mean she's flying, but she's a good partner to have. When he does, Kevin stays by Wymack's side in the sanctuary, in the safest place he can be other than behind Andrew.
Renee speaks, sometimes, even though Andrew hasn't answered her back in months. She hasn't asked him to shift back, but it seems that she's quietly confident he'll do so eventually, which some of the others are starting to give up on trying to encourage him to do. She doesn't say it, necessarily, but Andrew can feel that steady assurance she carries. It's not arrogance, at least, which is why he keeps her around.
But then, eventually, Andrew flies alone. He flies at night, using the cover of the dark sky to blend in as he goes a little further out than Wymack allows. Flying low, he knows he's tracing an old trail, but fresh wisps of a scent catch his attention.
He stops to land in a clearing, close to the stream of water he'd used to hide his tracks when running. A couple of hours out from the sanctuary — a long distance to run, but a short one to fly. But he doesn't have to wait long to be found.
"Well, my little spot isn’t quite mine anymore, it seems.”
That voice — it’s the very same. Different, though, in the intensity. It's not frantic, not laced with urgency. Like he's known, at some point, Andrew would follow back on his own path. Like he’s been waiting for it to happen, even if he claims it’s Andrew who’s intruding on ‘his’ spot.
Andrew properly sees him through the foliage as he gets closer to the stream, walking along the overhanging slope of an embankment. On the other side of it, a little lower on the ground he’s walking, is the hunter.
There are weapons on his person, Andrew can tell that much, but he’s currently not holding any. And his fingers don’t ghost over any of them beneath his clothing once he meets Andrew’s eyes.
It’s a low stream between them; it’d barely come up to human calves. It’d certainly be easy for Andrew to cross as he is now — he’d be able to clear it in one half-hearted leap without even getting wet.
A stream is hardly enough to separate them. The hunter can easily slide any weapon into his hand and get a decent shot, especially this close. Or he’d be able to draw Andrew out, draw him closer, and let someone else take the shot.
But there are no other hunters in the area. Andrew already knows this; he’d never have approached if he’d been able to pick up another scent. It's just this one — this strange, strange one before him.
"I didn't expect to see you again," the hunter says, his walking coming to a stop. Andrew listens carefully. There's not a single hitch in his heart rate.
And yet, he seems completely unsurprised to see Andrew again. And he’s addressing Andrew like he’s been waiting for him to find this spot.
Andrew stops as well. The hunter regards him for a moment, then takes a chance to come a little closer, breaking out of the foliage and closer to the bank of the stream. When the hunter gets a step away from the stream of water, he stops.
"How's your wing?" The hunter asks.
Andrew flexes both out — there's still strain to his injured one, but it's nothing he won't be able to fly back with if he needs to.
The hunter nods, a small twitch to his lip that he puts a hand over his mouth to smother.
"That's good," the hunter says quietly. "I'm glad. I was worried you wouldn't be able to get ahead of us."
Andrew strains, because under all the scents of the forest, under the smell of weapons and metal and the blood of the boy in front of him—
Moriyama.
There, undoubtedly. Lingering like a cloud of smoke that won't disperse, the last of the burning kindling that refuses to die.
Andrew flexes his wings again, this time in a warning. The hunter grimaces and looks down at himself like he knows what Andrew can smell, but only for a moment, eyes quick to meet Andrew’s again.
"I didn't turn you over to him,” the hunter reminds him, shaking out his hands and staring back at Andrew defiantly. His heart hasn't thumped once, and there’s still not a trace of fear — not even as Andrew's eyes slit in focus, ready to make this hunter before him a target before he can even draw his next breath.
"I told you," the hunter insists, "I don't want him to find you any more than you do."
Andrew, reluctantly, tilts his head. Expressing a question, clear to understand if this hunter isn't stupid: Why?
The hunter sighs and runs a hand through the back of his hair. It's tied back with a cloth, a bandana of some kind, though most of his hair is falling out in strands anyway. Andrew does not want to think about why he's noticing it.
"You have Kevin, don't you?"
And that's all it takes for Andrew to move. He leaps across the stream with ease, and within a blink, within a single breath, he has the hunter pinned to the tree behind him. The hunter is taken by surprise, gasping at the impact as it winds him, fingers scrambling uselessly at Andrew's claws. His weapons are within reach if he tries to go for them, though Andrew can knock them away easily. Still, the hunter doesn't try and defend himself.
After a couple of ragged, shaken breaths, the hunter manages to speak. His head drops against the trunk behind him in something that would almost be tired defeat, but Andrew recognises the defiance.
"Ouch. Christ,” the hunter complains with a grunt. “I'm going to take that as a yes, just so you know."
Andrew never needed to give him an answer. It's clear the hunter already knows that Andrew does, in fact, have Kevin.
He snarls in warning, because he will not give this hunter Kevin, he will not ever let Riko touch Kevin again, and the hunter groans in reply. Still not afraid, not at all.
"I get it, I get it," the hunter says, though it turns breathless as Andrew presses down with more pressure. "I don't want to hurt him. I just— I've heard about you. Riko talks. Fuck, all he does is—" He cuts himself off with a ragged wheeze. "Can you maybe lighten up?"
For a moment, Andrew considers pressing harder. Pushing. Squeezing. Bursting his ribs, piercing his heart. If the hunter knows that Kevin is with Andrew, if he knows where, then Riko—
"I don't want Riko to find him either," the hunter says quietly. Not a single hitch in his heart. Andrew hasn't trusted this hunter's heartbeat in the slightest to be a proper gauge of his honesty, but he has a feeling this might just be the most truthful thing he's said yet.
Slowly, Andrew lets up his grip. In another breath, he's back across the other side of the stream, watching as the hunter folds over himself and sucks in breaths with his hands on his knees. When Andrew's sure that he's gotten his breath back, he makes a noise to indicate ‘answer before I regret letting you speak.’
"Riko knows he'd gone to Wymack," the hunter finally tells him, gesturing to him in demonstration, but then waves his hand in the general direction of the sky. "And where there’s Wymack, there’s you.”
The hunter seems to ignore his stare this time. He sits himself up against the tree, a bizarre picture of calm in front of Andrew.
“He talks about you the most of any of them. Black, dark as night, fast. You've tripped up plans of his before, and he's— well, obsessive. You're the one he wants the most," the hunter says. His voice takes on a strange, distant note. "Other than Kevin, of course. But he can't trace either of you."
There’s something bitter under his tone, an unspoken ending to his sentence that he swallows down.
And why won't you help him, then?
But Andrew can't ask, and the hunter still refuses to look over at him, meaning he doesn’t see Andrew’s demanding expression. Andrew flicks his tail across the water, splashing the hunter’s legs. He finally looks at Andrew, but his gaze is just as distant as his voice. He's not looking, not properly.
Andrew snarls at him. Who are you?
The boy blinks at him. He doesn't answer.
Andrew doesn’t move. Neither does the hunter. They stay on either side of the stream, silent, until the hunter’s stomach rumbles.
The hunter is slow to move, like he doesn’t want to be the first to break their silent stalemate, but Andrew is already gone by the time he stands.
He wants to ask Kevin. He wants to ask Nicky to ask Kevin.
But if Andrew goes inquiring about the Butcher or his son, he doesn't want Kevin to look any further out into the forest than he does. It's hard enough to keep him here, hard enough to convince him to stay.
His return to Riko will only promise his demise. Maybe not death, maybe not immediately, but Andrew — and Wymack — know it will be worse. But he knows Kevin will be blind to it, will convince himself that it won't be so bad, that he can manage it, that he can live with it, that he can survive it.
So Andrew doesn’t shift, and he doesn’t ask. He stays in the sanctuary, by Kevin's side, by Renee's out on patrols, and life is normal enough. They're reassured that Riko hasn't come any closer, but they remain vigilant, refusing to become complacent. Until something happens, it's simply a waiting game — the same old, same old.
Until the nights that Andrew touches down in a clearing, on one side of the stream. The hunter doesn't come the second time he does it.
But he comes the third time.
"I'm starting to wonder if you want to get caught," the hunter tells him, heading straight for the tree that Andrew had first pinned him against and sitting down against it. "But I suppose you’re wondering if I want to be shredded meat.”
Andrew doesn't bother with a reply. Maybe he doesn’t have an answer, anyway. He’s meeting up with a hunter. A hunter is meeting up with him. And both times, they’ve walked away from it.
It’s definitely a curious thing. And Andrew finds himself intrigued enough to come back to the stream, to find this hunter once again.
"If I say something, do you promise not to jump me this time?" The hunter asks after a few moments of quiet.
Andrew tilts his head. Depends.
The hunter sighs. He watches Andrew warily. Slowly, he raises his hands up, signalling he's keeping them away from the blades that he's got tucked away. He's got some in his sleeves, Andrew can tell, making the pretence of innocence void, but Andrew allows for it. He flicks his tail. Go ahead, then. See if it's worth it.
"Your name is Andrew," the hunter says.
Andrew's claws dig into the earth below. A warning is grumbling low in his throat.
The hunter says, quickly, "My name's Neil."
It's surprising enough that the noise in his throat cuts off, though his claws are still digging into the ground, prepared to leap across the stream the moment that the hunter — Neil — decides to test his allowance.
"A trade," Neil says. "I know your name because of Riko. So it's fair that you know mine too."
Andrew waits. Neil slowly lowers his hands and puts them back by his sides.
Andrew thinks he's going to say more, but Neil remains quiet. He pulls out a small pack of something and tears into it, biting into candied fruits. He holds out his hand in offering, but Andrew sneers at him, and Neil shrugs and goes back to eating them. Easily. Pleasantly. Like he's not sitting right across from the monster that's pinned him down twice, now, with laughable ease.
Neil doesn't say anything else. Andrew returns to the sanctuary with a name, but a whole new lot of questions that he doesn’t have an answer for.
They keep meeting by the stream.
Neil is the one who proposes when, usually finishing their meetings with something like: Guess I'll see you in three nights, then. If that works for you.
Andrew's never bothered replying to that, and he's always considered not going — because what he hopes to find out of these meetings with this hunter, he doesn't quite know — but he always turns up anyway.
Maybe it's interest, which hasn't sparked to life since Kevin stumbled into their sanctuary. Maybe, probably, it's just stupidity. Whatever it is, he finds himself going to the stream anyway. Some nights, Neil is already waiting for him, back pressed against the tree he's taken a liking to.
What Neil hopes to find out from these meetings, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s not about Andrew at all, for him. Maybe it’s about getting away from Riko. Andrew can understand that, at least.
Andrew has so many questions, but he doesn't have a mouth to speak them with. Neil doesn't offer any answers, and Andrew doesn’t think he would even if he could speak them, not to the important ones — why are you with Riko, why are you protecting Kevin, who are you, who are you, who are you — but Neil slowly starts to say other things.
He'd been with his mother for a long time, and they travelled a lot. They spent a lot of nights in forests like this. He saw a dragon flying overhead, once. Bright colours, red and glittering under the sun, when he was just a boy. His mother told him to keep his head down, to follow the tracks, to stop getting lost up in the clouds.
Andrew wants to ask: do you have her eyes? Or your father's?
No matter what, though, Neil doesn't talk about Riko, his father, or hunting. He's careful about the way he speaks about his mother. Mostly, he gives Andrew glimpses into small, mundane stories on his travels, small pieces of him that Andrew has no hope of making an entire puzzle with, but at least it's no longer a blank picture in front of him. He doesn't, at any point, expect Andrew to reply to him.
But he looks at Andrew, and he offers his hands with his latest snacks even as Andrew always turns his head, and he doesn't look through him. Even though Andrew says nothing at all, he knows Neil is listening, waiting. Picking up on Andrew's behaviour, able to talk without words crossing between them. Andrew doesn't say a word, but Neil doesn't mind.
And maybe — maybe it’s not just about getting away from Riko. Maybe it is, somewhat, about Andrew being here with him, too.
But Neil has never seen him. Not as a human. And Andrew isn’t going to pretend like it’d even matter.
Their meetings start to become more frequent, even as Neil runs out of stories to tell him about his travels. But Andrew doesn't mind the quiet, and Neil doesn't either. Soon enough, they're meeting every couple of nights, rather than random ones that Neil proposes. He doesn't even say when, anymore. Just a 'see you, Andrew,' that he quietly lets float in the air between them.
He talks about another boy, a few weeks after their first meeting, but only as he goes to leave. It's the first glimpse into anything about Neil's current life, outside of this bubble with Andrew in this clearing, that he's offered.
"Well, I'd better head. Jean's gonna start worrying," Neil says, getting his feet under him a little earlier than he typically does. After a pause, he says, "Well, more than he already does."
Andrew's ears ring. He's heard that name before. Kevin, only once, gritting it out after the throes of a nightmare. And then he’d completely shut down for days after saying it.
Andrew rumbles. He wants to ask. He should ask.
"Kevin's told you about him?" Neil asks instead, currently unaware of Andrew's dilemma for the first time in months. He hasn't had any desire to shift, not for a long time, but it's tingling under his skin. But if he shifts, there is nothing to protect himself with. He doesn't even have clothes within reach to cover himself up with, much less weapons.
Neil's head starts to tilt a little further as he waits, and the motion catches Andrew's attention and snaps him out of it. He doesn't need to shift, not now. Neil understands the motion of him shaking his head well enough.
Kevin’s said his name, but that’s all Andrew has ever heard.
Neil's expression pinches, but he shrugs, brushing it off in a mere moment. "Yeah, figured. Jean helped him get out at the cost of being left behind. Not exactly something Jean likes talking about either."
Interesting. He knows it had cost Kevin a lot to stumble through their sanctuary, bleeding and broken. Kevin left behind years of history, training, his entire unbalanced partnership with Riko. But Andrew didn't know there was someone else in that equation, too.
Neil turns to leave. Usually, this is also the cue when Andrew turns to go. But something keeps him rooted to the ground, considering splaying out his wings, considering blocking Neil's path back to Riko.
He doesn't, of course. Neil gives him a confused look, surprised that he’s still around by the time he’s hiked his bag up over his shoulder, but then shakes it off.
“See you, Andrew,” he says, hesitating for barely a moment, his voice back to his usual cadence. Noticeable, now, as there'd been a strange dip in his tone when talking about Jean. He usually circles widely around the topic of Riko — Kevin, too — but not in the sort of protective way that he's clearly trying to shield Jean with.
Strange. Maybe, Andrew considers, it’d be something worth asking Kevin about — if only Kevin didn't shut down and refuse to speak for days after his only mention of Jean. Andrew's sure he'll be able to get him to talk eventually, but it might be too aggravating to try. Kevin will have questions in turn, and Andrew is no more willing than he is to provide the answers. It might be easier to get answers from Neil. Maybe, maybe. But Neil's protective, too. Andrew doesn't think he'll offer up any more information faster even if Andrew asks for it.
There's a connection, though. Between Kevin, Jean, and Neil. Kevin and Neil. Andrew's sure he'll be able to untangle it and figure it out. He just needs to figure out which threads to pull on.
He returns to the sanctuary, the moon high, Kevin already asleep. He's big, but he's quiet, and no one is disturbed as he slinks his way back into the house and curls up. His visits to the forest have been noticed — Wymack tends to look him over the mornings after, but he hasn't approached Andrew about it, which means he's allowing it. Nicky's tried to talk to him about it once, shifting and butting his head against him during breakfast a few days ago, but Andrew's lack of acknowledgment has left him uninspired to try again.
When Kevin wakes up, late in the day because he's made everyone adapt to his schedule of late-night trainings, Andrew stays by his side. It's a usual sight, ever since they made their deal and Andrew shifted and stayed that way, always close to Kevin whenever he's not out in the forest or with Renee. They eat, Kevin and Aaron getting into a usual argument about something that Andrew doesn't care about, and then they split up for the day so that Kevin can join in on the latest meeting about the Moriyamas.
Kevin is, at least, less on edge than usual. Which means he's still tethering over the edge and aggravating as hell to deal with, but it is better. It won't be gone, not until they can finally dismantle the Moriyamas from hunting entirely, not until Andrew can wipe Riko off the plane of existence. He doesn't even bother Andrew as he takes up his usual spot in the corner, standing guard but not acknowledging the meeting of any importance to him.
Despite what the rest of them think, though, he's always listening. But there's just nothing interesting happening — the Moriyamas have managed to track down a couple of wyverns, this time. Each and every meeting, it's some sort of creature, some new shifter they're on the hunt for or have already killed. The Moriayamas have got a buyer in one of the black market trades, though no one can figure out who it is, and they're lacking in information to get into the trade themselves. The Moriyamas consistently remain one step ahead of them, but they still haven't come any closer to getting to the sanctuary.
Kevin only offers glimpses of Riko in regards to his method of hunting. His knowledge has managed to get them ahead of the hunt once or twice, but not nearly as much as Kevin wants. But there's not much he can do — he's grounded, limited to staying in the sanctuary, and they can only move so fast after the information comes to them. Most of the time, it's simply too late.
Kevin wants to move, but most of them know it's already too late for the newest targets in the Moriyamas' sights. Andrew thinks as long as those sights don't turn in their direction, it's to their advantage. As usual, it causes an argument, and Andrew settles in for another long meeting ahead of him.
There are no updates about a new hunter with them. No word about a boy named Jean. Nothing new, nothing interesting. Not yet.
"They say you're a monster," Neil tells him.
Andrew is currently eyeing off the small sweet treat — a tart, maybe — Neil's got in his hands. The sweet is a much more interesting prospect to be talking about. It's the first time that Neil's brought something worth entertaining, but he hasn’t held it out in offering just yet.
Andrew's not sure if he'll take it. It means he'll have to cross over the stream. It means that, for the first time, Andrew will have to approach him without meaning to subdue him.
"I don't think you are," Neil admits, voice quiet and thoughtful. Not a single disruption in his heartbeat, though there never is.
Andrew huffs. Clear, without a single word: That's because you're stupid.
"You could have killed me," Neil says, turning the tart over in his hands as he looks at it. He seems to have no interest in biting the damn thing. It's been a while since Andrew's been able to swipe some sweets from Bee's stash — hers has considerably dwindled, since Andrew doesn't have the hands to go pocketing them from her small house.
"Andrew." Neil's voice gets his attention. He looks up from the treat, meeting Neil's eyes. "Why didn't you kill me?"
In that moment, Andrew is incredibly glad he does not have a means to speak. He doesn't think he'd be able to if he tried.
Neil is still looking at him, like he's trying to find an answer. He's never quite expected an answer from Andrew before, but he's also become annoyingly good at reading Andrew's expressions even as a dragon. Fuck Neil. Fuck the stream. Fuck Andrew's entire life.
Slowly, languidly, Andrew stretches out his wings. Neil watches with careful eyes, but he doesn't shift. He watches and waits. Andrew gives himself another couple of moments, then slowly descends the small bank. He doesn't break his sight from Neil's bright blue eyes as he puts his feet through the water, wading through the current to come to the other side.
Neil's still not scared, but he is holding his breath.
Andrew comes closer. Neil doesn't move. Doesn't lean closer, but doesn't lean away from him, either.
His eyes flicker down to the small sweet in Neil's hands. After a moment, Neil's fingers twitch.
"You want this?" Neil asks, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
Andrew leans closer and huffs an impatient breath right in his face, watching Neil's hair fan out, his eyelashes fluttering against the sudden wind.
"Okay, thanks for that," Neil says with a dry tone. The tart, made of a mixture of berries, is wrapped in a small cloth. Neil's fingers are close to tearing it apart.
And then, fortunately, he loosens his grip. He breaks eye contact with Andrew just to look down at it.
"All yours," Neil says, slowly lowering it to the ground in front of him, and then backing himself up. Leaving it for Andrew to take if he wants it.
Andrew is surprised by the motion — he thought Neil would take the opportunity to hold out his hand, to try and close the distance between them entirely, but instead he’s doing his best to give Andrew some space.
Andrew lowers himself down slightly. Neil's holding his breath again, even though he's trying hard to act like he's not going to mind whatever Andrew does with the tart.
This is ridiculous, he thinks. Andrew is the very thing that Neil should be hunting. By all means, by all teachings, Neil should think of him as a monster. Him, most of all.
And yet…
I don't think you are, Neil's voice rings in his head.
Andrew takes the cloth that surrounds the tart between his teeth and pulls it closer. Neil looks away as he puts a hand over his mouth, hiding the way his lips rise. Andrew downs the tart in a single bite, the fruity, sweet taste only lasting for a single moment.
"Noted," Neil says, hand lowering as he looks back at Andrew, amusement so clear Andrew can taste it just as well as the sweetness of the fruits. "You like sweet things, huh?"
Andrew scoffs at him. Turns his back and walks back across the stream — he doesn’t take the small leap up onto the rise of the hill, staying close to the bank, but Neil doesn't come closer, and he doesn't look at Andrew like he expects or is hoping for anything else.
Neil brings a sweeter, fresher tart when they meet next. Andrew lets himself savour that one a little longer.
"You're meeting someone out there, aren't you?" Renee asks him, walking with him through the forest. They're at the end of their patrol, and as usual, there's nothing to show for it. Andrew doesn't mind that — he's got enough to focus on with Neil in the forest, and he doesn't need any new surprises making their way here.
He's empty-handed, but Renee's managed to find some sort of leaves that Abby's been after, and she's currently bundling them up. He flaps his tail at her while she's distracted, reminding her he is very much deciding to walk.
She laughs, easily dodging his tail and continuing to stash the leaves.
"Dramatic, you are." After a moment, knowing she's pushing her luck by the tone in her voice, she questions, "Do they know that about you yet?"
This time, he goes to swat her over the head. She ducks, and then flicks him on the ear when she gets back in close. He scowls, but knows any retaliation is going to just end up more painful for him.
"Remember, I can still take you down right now," she says.
He rolls his eyes. She grins.
"You know, Roland's been asking about you."
Oh, she is definitely pushing her luck. He side-eyes her in warning, and her innocent smile does not convince him.
"Nothing like that," she says, gesturing to Andrew's current form in a clear demonstration. "He's just checking in. Making sure you're alright."
He snorts.
"Yeah," she hums. "I know."
They walk quietly, and Andrew thinks they almost make it to the edge of the sanctuary, too close to anyone else for her to try and speak, but she slows her steps down, and he sighs.
"Can I ask about him?" She asks. Careful with her tone, not letting Andrew think that she's going to mind whatever he decides.
Him is presumptuous. But she’s correct, and there’s no point pretending otherwise.
He rumbles, letting his own pace slow down to match, giving her the moment. You can try.
She's getting better at understanding him in this form, unfortunately. She makes an amused sound in the back of her throat.
"Well, I suppose I'm limited to yes or no questions for now," she admits, but then her eyes light up. "But I am curious about what he looks like. Dark hair?" She pauses, waiting for his reply, and then moves on: "Blonde? Brown? Not quite. Oh, I see. Okay. Eyes — brown? Green? Blue. Blue. Okay."
He stares, unamused as he watches the smile cross her face. She's unapologetic in her returning shrug.
They walk again, and Andrew thinks he's almost in the clear, but he can also tell there's something on Renee's mind. He's fine to let her sit with it, but of course she isn’t one to shy away from bringing something up.
"Have you shifted?" Renee asks, her tone that same careful measurement of neutral.
And it's only because Andrew knows she doesn't mind — even if he has shifted for Neil, he knows Renee won't be jealous over it. She understands him, just as he understands her. That's the only reason he decides to give her an answer.
He shakes his head. She decides to let him see her flicker of surprise cross her expression, but then it settles out as she thinks it over.
"I see," she says. "I have to admit, I am very curious about him."
Stay that way, he tells her with a low rumble, and she smiles like she knows exactly what he's saying.
"I know you don't want to hear this," she says, right as they finally cross into the sanctuary, Dan giving them an acknowledging nod as she spots them. "But be careful out there, Andrew."
She's right — it's not something he wants to hear. He walks past her, pretending he never did.
They've started walking, recently. Just a small lap, up and down the stream, both of them keeping to their usual sides of it.
It's started because Neil's been getting more and more restless. It's not to do with Andrew; for some ungodly reason, he seems to settle only when Andrew is with him. Andrew sees the differences in Neil's behaviour — he catches Neil's tension when he's pacing by the tree, waiting for Andrew and still unaware of his presence slinking close by. The moment Andrew appears, his feet finally settle, and he stops moving.
But it feels like Neil is constantly wanting to look over his shoulder, so Andrew's the one who moves first, getting them away from their usual meeting spot. Neil almost doesn't follow, but Andrew makes it clear the invitation is open, and Neil is a silent but oh so very loud presence near him.
Neil doesn't reveal anything for a few nights. And then, finally, he admits, "Riko's about to move the camp. I thought we'd be set up where we are for longer, but..."
He trails off, running a hand through his hair in agitation. Andrew finds his gaze lingering, watching every movement, but Neil's so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice — or care — that Andrew's looking so blatantly.
"I'll still make it here to meet," Neil insists, like this is his biggest concern.
Andrew makes an unamused sound. Neil replies with his own.
After a few moments of quiet, Neil lets something else slip.
"He's getting worse."
At this admission, Andrew almost stops walking. He wants to pry: And what, do you think, the grand meltdown will look like this time? More bloody, broken limbs to clean up? Will they be yours, rabbit? How many bones will it take before you come to our door?
Despite the sweet tart that Neil gave him, Andrew's mouth has gone sour. He runs his tongue over his teeth and tries to scrape it from his tongue. He doesn't think Neil will come to the sanctuary — no matter the bones, no matter the blood. There's something else, he suspects, keeping Neil with the hunters.
Neil does not talk about Riko with a sense of revelry, or loyalty, or history. Not like Kevin still does, sometimes. Kevin still holds out some sort of hope, like Riko will suddenly gain some sense. Like it'll all go back to how it was years ago, just boys waving sticks instead of actual weapons. Even if Kevin never quite agreed with the hunts, he stayed for Riko. It was his only known way of survival — until Riko twisted and morphed it, and the moment the blood and broken bones were Kevin's, it was enough for him to realise his survival was at risk.
But Andrew's sure that Neil is well aware of Riko's destructive affinity, well aware of his risk of survival, and it isn’t enough to send him crawling to safety. Isn’t enough to send him to Andrew.
Neil's clearly turning something over in his mind, the inside of his cheek pulled in slightly as he thinks. He still hasn't taken notice of Andrew's staring. Something else has got his focus entirely, and Andrew's just as agitated about it as he is curious.
"Jean can endure a lot," Neil says, quietly. "But if it keeps going like this..."
Andrew knows well that Riko is cruel. It's targeted at shifters and creatures, for the most part, but Andrew knows there's no sense of limits when it comes to someone like Riko. He'd known Riko would start to unravel the longer Kevin's presence was missing, the longer he'd go without hauling in a big hunt — like a dragon — to keep his fascination. He's been waiting for the moment Riko's focus turns to his own men. He's not foolish enough to hope that it'd self-implode the hunters entirely, not when they're so loyal to the Moriyamas, but he was hedging a bet that Riko would at least take down some other hunters in his destruction.
It's exactly what he’s been expecting to happen, and Neil's confirming it is — but for the first time, Andrew senses the fear coming from Neil. It's faint, distant, but it's there.
Neil won't crawl out of Riko's reach even when it's his own body, broken and bleeding. But if it's Jean's — maybe, maybe, there's something Andrew can use, here. Maybe there's a deal to be made yet, just as long as it doesn't break any of his other promises.
The rest of their walk passes in silence. Neil's caught up in his own thoughts, but Andrew is too.
He heads back to the sanctuary, resolute in what he needs to do. He won't try and barter with Neil if it costs him Kevin's trust. For the first time in months, Andrew knows he needs to speak. But not to Neil — not yet.
No one wakes as he heads into the house, though Aaron shifts in disturbance when Andrew pads over, closer than he usually does, to reach for a sack he hasn't touched in months. But when Andrew pulls it free, gripped between his teeth, Aaron stays asleep, and Andrew heads out of the room so he can do this in peace in case someone decides to wake up.
It takes a moment to recall how to shift before he can actually do it. It's almost disconcerting, now, changing form. His wings fold in, melding into his back, turning to human skin. Claws turn to long nails, paws into fingers, and suddenly he's crouched in the dirt with two arms and two legs and so very human.
He uses his tongue to poke and prod all the corners of his mouth, a strange taste lingering. His senses always feel like they've been pulled from his body, rolled around in dirt, then stuffed back into a vessel that's probably not big enough to carry them after he shifts.
He lets out a long exhale, settling into the feeling of his human form, then reaches out for the sack he's brought along. He changes into clothes, slipping his usual sleeves on to cover his scars; they're fainter as a dragon, not nearly as noticeable as they are with human skin. He knows Neil’s seen them. He knows Neil is curious. But he hasn’t tried to pry about them.
His hair's gotten longer, too. He grimaces at the feeling of it brushing against his neck. Annoying, how things continue to grow even when he's shifted. He'll have to clean himself up — just not tonight. Kevin can simply deal with his more haggard appearance for the moment.
Settling on his feet is a little disorienting, and he stretches out his fingers to try and curb the itch to shift again. His first step is slightly wobbly, balance not quite adjusting to his lack of tail and only walking on two legs, but it's an easy step on the second. He was a human long before he ever shifted into a dragon, and he settles back into it quickly.
He heads back to Kevin's bed and takes a seat on the edge of it. He reaches out and shakes Kevin's shoulder, though it takes a frustrating while before he finally stirs.
Kevin blinks, annoyance and confusion clear, as he narrows his eyes at the figure disturbing him.
"Aaron?" He whispers harshly, but then squints a little further, and the annoyance swiftly drops in place of disbelief. "Andrew?"
Now that he's got Kevin's attention, he stands up from the bed and gestures to the door with his head. Kevin lies in bed for only a moment before he scrambles to his feet, following Andrew outside hurriedly.
Fuck, human forms run so much colder. Andrew grits his teeth against the chill and tucks his arms across his stomach. This shouldn't be too long, at least. Kevin almost stumbles on his feet after him, like he's the one who hasn't been walking on two legs for months.
"Andrew?" Kevin asks in a demanding whisper.
Andrew turns on his heels and puts his finger to his lips to call for silence. He'd threaten Kevin — I'll shift before anyone else sees me, and no one will believe you — but he knows his first words will come out rough. He doesn't want to waste the effort, anyway. Kevin at least understands there's an implicit threat in his motion, as he presses his lips together unhappily but falls quiet all the same.
Andrew leads them out to the edges of the sanctuary, closer to the trees than they are to any buildings. Andrew folds his fingers together and stretches up, pulling at some of the muscles he hasn't used in a while.
Kevin's agitated, and Andrew feels the moment he loses his patience and reaches out, hoping to grab Andrew's arm. Andrew steps neatly out of his way, giving Kevin a flat, unimpressed look.
Kevin's undeterred by his attitude, and now that he’s properly waking up, the panic is quick to settle in. "Why have you shifted? Has something happened?"
Andrew tilts his head slightly, trying to work out how long he can remain silent before Kevin loses his nerve. Not long at all, is the answer.
His tongue clicks as he moves it in his mouth, getting ready to speak. His voice is hoarse, low like he's unable to shake the way he's gotten used to rumbling and growling.
"You never mentioned that someone helped you get out," he says. In the grand scheme of things, maybe it's not that important. Maybe Kevin just used whoever he had to, whoever would help him crawl his way to Wymack's protection. Maybe it doesn't matter at all to him.
But then Andrew watches the expressions cross Kevin's face, and he realises it's something a whole lot more. It matters too much to Kevin. It was too important, meant too much, to ever say it aloud.
"How do you know that?" Kevin asks, stunned. And then he rocks forward, like he's about to grab Andrew again, but Andrew takes another step back out of range. Kevin's desperate, though, unravelling, "Has— have you seen him? Has he talked to you?"
"Not him," he decides to give Kevin.
"Who?" Kevin asks, still with that desperation.
Andrew taps his fingers into the crooks of his elbows, thinking it over.
"Neil," he eventually says.
Kevin's eyebrows furrow, and Andrew doesn't need to bother listening to know he's being honest in his confusion. "I don't know— who is that? Are they with Riko?"
Instead of answering that, Andrew says, "He doesn't think Jean's going to last much longer."
For a moment, Kevin's torn between which topic he wants to follow the thread for. But something crosses his face, and Andrew recognises it as guilt before Kevin manages to smooth it over.
"Jean will survive," Kevin says eventually.
"You bet his life on it?" Andrew challenges. Kevin hesitates, and it's all he needs to press forward. "Let's say it's in my interest to take another plaything from Riko's grasp. Is he safe to bring back here?"
Kevin's silent for a moment, stunned. And then, carefully, he says, "He wouldn't hurt anyone. But..." He looks around, contemplating the sanctuary, before he turns back to Andrew. "He won't come here."
Andrew doesn't say anything else. Kevin looks at him more carefully.
"Andrew," he says. "He won't follow you just because you ask it of him."
He waves his hand in response, tired of speaking when he knows it's going to be wasted on arguing. He's gotten all he needs from this conversation, all he needs from Kevin for the moment, and he's done with it. Kevin's not so happy about the abrupt end to the conversation, but Andrew points him back to the house. He goes after some silent glaring, and Andrew watches him while flexing out his fingers, waiting until the door shuts before finally stripping down and shifting.
Being a human again felt strange, but as he digs his claws into the earth beneath, he supposes he'd better start getting used to it again.
The first time Andrew appears with the bag around his neck, Neil regards him with open curiosity.
"What's in there?" He asks, even though Andrew has no means to answer verbally.
Andrew rolls his eyes at him, making it clear he's not going to reply or entertain his questions. Neil waits for a moment in case he changes his mind, but when it becomes clear Andrew isn't going to budge, he shrugs and digs through his own bag to get his newest treat.
And when Andrew tastes it, the berries slightly different in taste, he knows exactly where Riko has moved the camp to. East, close to one of the villages where Andrew's visited before and almost made himself sick from the sweeter fruits he gouged on. He wonders if Neil knows he's given it away — but when he looks over, catching Neil's calculating gaze, he realises Neil knows exactly what he's done.
Neil doesn't say anything about it, though. Andrew doesn't either. But when he gets back to the sanctuary, he heads inside one of the halls where they keep most of their strategy meetings, and he regards the pieces on the large map they've got spread out. Wymack walks in right as Andrew's shifting the piece to represent Riko's camp, moving it a little further than they thought. It gives them more breathing room, at least.
Riko's been creeping closer and closer for the past few months, and it seems he's finally lost scent of their trail.
Andrew's pretty sure he knows the reason for that.
Wymack walks up to the map, studying it, before his mouth purses and he looks at Andrew.
"Minyard," he sighs. "Please tell me you haven't been running recon so close to them on your own."
In this form, Andrew towers over him. But Wymack is unfearing as he stares up at Andrew, waiting. Andrew just waves his tail, knocking over Riko's piece on the board — he figures that, at least, will get his reply across. Riko's going to lose, and I will be the one to put him in the ground.
Though it's now a further distance for Neil to come, he keeps his promise and always shows up at the stream. He has to make the days between visits longer, reasons he won't share with Andrew, but Andrew can figure it out well enough: Riko's been insistent on the hunts, tracking more than ever, and it's keeping them occupied.
Andrew can see it wearing him down, but he waits. Neil gets used to seeing the sack that Andrew now carries with him, no longer looking at it with curiosity. He doesn't ever look past it, but he doesn't acknowledge it anymore. He's probably too tired to do it — Andrew can see the threads keeping him together are fraying, and though he's biting back his tongue speaking of him, Andrew knows his concerns for Jean are getting worse.
He waits, and he waits, until he treads to the clearing one night, and he sees Neil leaning against a tree, waiting. His eyes are closed, head tipped back.
But what catches Andrew's attention is that there's a bandage across his cheek, taped hazardously to his skin and into his hairline. Andrew carefully sniffs the air, but he doesn't smell blood. Not an injury, not a bleeding one at least, but something Neil is covering.
He walks further back into the cover of the trees, and without Neil noticing, Andrew shifts. He's glad, at least, that he's cleaned up his appearance for this — his hair is shorter, face shaved, nails trimmed. He'd known it would only be a matter of time before he needed his words more than he needed his dragon form, especially with Neil slowing fraying, getting closer and closer to what Andrew's been waiting to offer. He pulls on his clothes, throws the sack over his shoulder, and walks forward.
Like he was never sitting down or exhausted to begin with, Neil is half-hidden by the tree, using shadows, alert and ready. There's a weapon in his hand, a long blade, but his face is completely calm, prepared for whatever he might be facing, whatever human has decided to walk through this area. Andrew takes another step, and Neil's eyes lock immediately with his, finding him in an instant.
Andrew stops. He's not nervous, but there's something in his stomach that's a little tight, waiting for Neil to appraise him. Neil's eyes drag across his figure, but Andrew knows it's entirely out of an assessment for threats. The slightest tinge of disappointment sparks, but he smothers it down. Neil was never someone he should have considered anyway — he knows better.
He's armed, and he lets the blades show. They're not nearly as effective as his body when he's a dragon, but they work well enough in this form. He watches Neil look over the weapons, the way he shifts his stance ever so slightly, getting ready for a fight.
And then Neil's gaze catches on the sack, the one Andrew has been carrying with him for their recent meetings now, and his eyes widen ever so slightly. He shifts again, weapons lowering.
"Andrew?" He asks carefully, tentatively.
He gives Neil a mocking salute, then spins the blade in his hand and sheaths it. After a moment, Neil does the same. Unarmed, they stare at each other, and this is when Andrew notices that Neil's looking him over again. But he's not looking at Andrew as a threat. He's looking at him for a whole other reason.
Andrew takes a few steps forward, stopping short just before the stream. He glances down at the water, mouth twisting. It's not too deep, but Andrew's already cold in his human form, and he doesn't want to be wet on top of it.
Neil's never crossed over to his side. The only times they've ever shared the same side of the stream have been when Andrew crosses it.
He looks over at Neil. His hands are still bare.
"Don't you have something for me?" Andrew asks. His voice is still coarse, ragged, but it's better than it'd been with Kevin.
He watches the way Neil reacts. The slight shiver, the goosebumps running up his skin. He runs a hand across the back of his neck like he's trying to soothe all of it back down into behaving.
"Yeah," Neil replies, and his voice sounds even rougher than Andrew's. Andrew tilts his head and waits. Neil quickly searches through his bag and pulls out the covered tart. "Here."
Andrew waits, unmoving. Neil blinks, then his mouth opens slightly in surprise.
"You're sure?" He asks.
Andrew just looks at the tart, then up at Neil. "Hurry up."
Neil looks like he's about to question it, but he comes to his senses with a small shake of his head. He looks at the stream, then crosses it within the blink of an eye, the quick ease and fluidity of someone who'd been able to track prey with ease in this terrain. He stops a couple of steps before Andrew, about to put the tart down, but Andrew raises his arm to get his attention, and Neil stops.
Andrew takes the step to bridge the distance, then reaches out and takes it, their fingers brushing as he does. It's a purposeful moment, all intended, and he watches as Neil tenses up and seems to try and freeze himself in place so that he doesn't move a whisper more than he's meant to.
He unwraps the cloth, breaking off a piece of it and popping it into his mouth. It's different, without all the same senses as a dragon, but it's still good. Not quite as sweet, but it lasts longer, the taste lingering on his tongue as he slowly makes his way through the small pieces. It gets rid of the strange taste that lingers in his mouth after a shift in an instant.
"Your eyes," Neil says, breaking the quiet between them, but he coughs and stops himself from speaking when Andrew flicks his gaze to him. He raises his eyebrows in a quiet demand for Neil to explain, but Neil clears his throat and purposely looks away. Which, in turn, gives Andrew a better look at the bandage on his cheek.
He finishes off the tart, dusting his fingers on his pants, then reaches out. Neil sees the movement in the corner of his eyes and immediately startles back, close to a flinch, and Andrew lets his hands hover. Neil recovers quickly, settling back into the same spot he'd been, no longer leaning away.
"What's under there, Neil?" Andrew asks, bringing a hand back to his own cheek so he can tap it.
"It's fine," Neil says.
"That wasn't my question."
Neil grimaces. His own fingers come up to brush the edge of the bandage. "It was a reminder from Riko. A lesson."
Andrew reaches out again. Neil doesn't pull away. His fingers catch the edge of the tape, and he pulls it from Neil's face, careful about the pieces too close to his hairline. He tries not to think too much about the fact that this is the first time he's touched Neil as a human, the tips of his fingers brushing skin, the touch so much more electric than it's ever been. He breathes steadily, pushing it all down, and he lets the bandage drop, half-hanging from Neil's face. He stares for a moment at the irritated skin on Neil's cheek, the ink still fresh.
It's familiar to him. The same branding that Kevin has — Riko Moriyama's signature hunting mark, and the number below Riko, always second. Neil wears the same, but with the number representing four.
He wants to brush his fingers over it, but he knows it's too fresh to try. He looks his fill, then pushes the bandage back up and runs his fingers roughly across the tape to seal it.
"Why?" Andrew asks, knowing Neil will understand the question without further elaboration. Riko's had Neil under his palm for a while — a 'lesson' seems synonymous with punishment.
"Lost sight of my place," Neil replies, like he's reciting a script, but then a harsh bark of laughter breaks that emotionless facade. "Tried to step between him and Jean. Didn't go so well for either of us."
Andrew takes a step back. "How long do you think Jean can last?"
At this, Neil reels back. But then he steadies himself with a long breath. "I was stupid. Made it worse. Riko will use Jean against me now that he knows that he can. I don't know. Not much longer."
Andrew has to stretch out his senses a little more carefully as a human, but he can hear Neil’s heartbeat: fast and fluttering, full of fear.
And still, not ever because of Andrew.
"And if we take Jean out of his reach?" Andrew asks.
"How?" Neil asks, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Same way we've got Kevin out," Andrew replies. "He comes to the sanctuary."
Neil hesitates, but before Andrew can even do anything with that reaction, he shakes his head, certain. "He won't go for that."
With a calm voice, he questions, "So you'll have him stay? When it'll be the death of him?"
Neil rocks back. "It's not— I'd get him out if he'd go, Andrew. But he won't. He'd come running back."
Andrew can almost taste the fear shrouding Neil. But he wouldn't be scared if he didn't have hope.
He knows what it's like to be where Neil — where Jean — is. Having hope is the worst part.
"Riko's gotten too far into your head," Andrew tells him, tapping the side of his skull and levelling Neil with an unimpressed look. But he knows Neil won't listen to him, so he changes tracks. "If you get him out, we can keep him out. Leave that part up to me. He won't go back."
"Why would you do that?" Neil asks, running a hand through his hair, agitated. He's fighting against Riko, as evident by the ink and the branding on his face, the lesson, but it's clearly gotten to him. Riko's clouding his vision.
"I want to dismantle Riko's little empire," Andrew answers. "Taking away his best hunters is a nice way to do it."
Neil shakes his head, almost cold as he says, "Riko will take him out eventually. If that was your only reason, you'd leave it be."
"Well, I imagine you won't leave Riko's clutches without him," Andrew answers, giving him some truth. It's not so much about Jean, not for Andrew, as it is about Neil. Neil flinches against his words, but Andrew continues, "You're clearly someone Riko deems important. More valuable than Jean, judging by the fact you're still in one piece and he isn’t. But you won't go without Jean, and I imagine Jean won't go without you. So we get both of you out, and take two of his best hunters from his side."
"I can't go," Neil whispers.
Can't. Not won't.
And it's the confirmation that it's something more than Jean keeping Neil tied to Riko.
"Why not?" Andrew presses.
Neil lets out a ragged breath. "I just— I can't. Not yet. I'm working on it."
"Will you work on it fast enough for Jean to survive?" Andrew questions.
Neil presses a hand over his mouth, fingers gripping in tight to his cheeks. He drags it down, skin pulling tight.
"Why would you help?" Neil asks, voice starting to come faster, the tinge of hysteria in his words. "I shot you down, Andrew. I'm a hunter. I'm one of Riko's, for fuck's sake— that's— Why?"
"Why did you cut me free?" Andrew cuts in.
"I—" Neil falters, then continues, "I told you. I didn't want Riko to find you."
"But you say you're a hunter. That you're one of Riko's," Andrew says. "You say that, but then you cut me free. You're not willingly one of Riko's, are you?"
"No, but—"
"Then that’s enough to be interesting," Andrew says, before Neil can spiral. It seems to surprise him enough to stop the hysteria, but now he's looking at Andrew in complete bewilderment. Andrew gives him a half-hearted shrug. "And like I told you, I have an acute interest in taking down Riko. I imagine you do too. So let's make a deal."
"A deal," Neil tentatively repeats, but it's not a rejection.
"You trust that I'll keep you both safe at the sanctuary," Andrew says. "And I'll make sure Riko is stopped. Whatever it is he's got against you, I will handle it."
And then, surprisingly, Neil's face shutters over. Andrew knows he almost had him — and then, suddenly, Neil has shut him out and shut him down.
"I won't make that deal," Neil says.
Won't. An interesting choice.
"Then what deal will you make?" Andrew asks.
But Neil just shakes his head. Takes a couple of steps back and looks over his shoulder, back at his usual side of the stream.
"I'll see you in four nights," he says. But before he crosses over the water, he looks at Andrew with a small, genuine smile. "It was nice to see you, by the way. Thank you."
The thank you feels like it's a little more than just for Andrew shifting, but Neil hasn't taken the deal, and so Andrew won't take the gratification.
He stares at Kevin's number when he returns, the brand still on his cheek. Allison's offered to cover it before, but Andrew knows he won't do anything until he's certain he can win against Riko.
Right now, he's definitely not so certain. More reports are coming in of Riko's hunts, more and more creatures being lost. It's wearing all of them down, more of them taking longer missions, more of them trying to expend their energy to try and help and get ahead of Riko. Kevin's starting to lose more and more of his nerve. Andrew thinks that talking to him about Neil, the number four on his cheek, will only unravel him further. So he doesn't shift, and he doesn't say anything.
He doesn't shift for his next meeting with Neil, either. Neil doesn't look surprised, and he doesn't show any sign of disappointment. He stays on his side of the stream and offers a new tart for Andrew to try. He doesn't remark or let his eyes linger around Andrew's neck, where the bag isn't resting. He left it back in the sanctuary, knowing he didn't want to go into this meeting with the opportunity to talk.
His voice had hurt after using it, and besides, Neil's given him his answer, and until Andrew can work out what deal Neil will take, he's got nothing to offer.
The bandage is off Neil's cheek now, the skin no longer as irritated as it had been. The dark ink on his cheek draws Andrew's attention and his ire, but until Neil's out of Riko's reach, there's nothing he can do for it.
Neil tells him a story of a small child in a village that had followed him around, and he's not sure if Neil's talking about his time before Riko or during. It's irritating how much he's tempted just to ask. This, he tells himself, is why he hasn't brought the bag — it's easier to swat away such temptations when he gives himself no option.
They walk for longer than usual. Neil hesitates when they come back to their usual meeting spot, like he wants to drag out the time they have. An interesting contrast to their last meeting, when Neil had almost been striking matches under his feet just to clear out.
But Andrew supposes this time he's not offering something that Neil so obviously wants but won't let himself have.
By the next meeting, though, he's impatient. He's getting the urge to shift, to speak, to press. He wants to poke at Neil until he unravels him. And he'd be able to do it, he thinks. Neil's still carrying that tension in his frame, that worry for Jean, and Andrew thinks he'd be able to pull at that string until the knots come loose.
But Neil doesn't pry at him, doesn't say anything about his shift, even though Andrew notices his gaze lingering around Andrew's eyes. So Andrew leaves it be — besides, he doesn't quite know what to do with the feeling of wanting to shift, to speak, to find out more. His interest is quickly tumbling into something with too much momentum already.
Their next meeting is quiet, but it’s their longest yet. For the first time, Andrew is the one who has to get up and leave — it's getting too close to the sun rising, and he's on patrol soon enough, so he needs the rest. Neil, quietly, calls out that he'll see him in a week.
That's the longest amount of time between visits they've gone in a while. Andrew's already turned away, so he acknowledges Neil's words with a flick of his tail, even as he wants to turn back around and ask for more details; a week feels like a long time, a purposeful amount, and he wonders if it's Riko or Neil to lay at the centre of blame for it. They haven't heard much more than usual about Riko's movements these days — he's still keeping up an impossible pace, but it hasn't increased. Not as much as Andrew knows, anyway.
He doesn't turn and ask. Doesn't shift. It doesn't matter, anyway. Because three days later, out on patrol, the sharp scent of blood carries to Andrew's nose. Renee catches it a moment later, as she looks up at him for direction. He ducks lower, closer to the trees, and leads the way. It's close — way too close to the sanctuary, and they're both on guard; they've just had Matt and Dan come back bloody and injured from a mission a day ago, and the risk of being followed is too high.
This scent of blood isn't familiar, isn't anyone they know, but it's why they're so much more alert. Andrew eventually drops entirely from the sky and runs beside Renee as they get closer, both of them slowing their pace down in return for moving more quietly through the land.
And then Andrew hears it. A voice, unfamiliar in the language, but familiar in every other way.
He's speaking to someone, though, and Andrew doesn't know who. Riko, he knows, speaks another language — Kevin slips into it, sometimes, when he’s just woken up from a nightmare and he’s disorientated. But he doesn't know if it's this one.
"Come on," he hears Neil grit out, frustrated, switching back to the language he knows. "Come on, just a little further. Andrew will— fuck, Jean, come on."
Andrew nudges Renee, a signal that they're not a threat, before he picks up the pace. He darts ahead, Renee right on his heels, until he finally catches sight of Neil's figure moving through the trees. He's doing his best to hurry, but there's a weight collapsed against his side, making it hard for him to do so.
This, Andrew figures, must be Jean.
Neil spots him fast. Andrew can hear his exhale of relief as he says, "Andrew."
He can tell he gets a look from Renee, but she's not his focus. He moves forward, coming to a stop just before Neil. Jean's hardly responsive, not even aware of the fact that he's slumped right before a dragon. With barely a breath of hesitation, Renee comes up to his side, nosing at his leg, and he makes a weak grunt.
Alive, at least, if Andrew didn't bother to listen for his short breaths and rapid heartbeat. But very, very injured. Tethering, now, between life and death.
Your plan took too long, he wants to say, looking at Neil, but it comes out as a low rumble.
"Help him," Neil says. Begging him. "Andrew, please—"
He cuts off when Andrew's lips pull back and snarls. Please — Andrew won't hear it. He will not hear Neil begging him with that word, so desperate, hoping against all odds that something will change.
Renee diffuses the tension by nudging against Jean's side again, then against Neil's, making an inquisitive noise. But Neil doesn't look away from Andrew, as he's stunned, not sure what to make of Andrew's reaction. But Andrew watches as he parses back through his words, and he seems to somehow figure it out. Neil swallows thickly, correcting himself by not saying it again, and takes the risk to keep speaking, "If you keep him safe, then I'll make a deal."
Renee looks back at him. Andrew lowers his head, sniffing the air.
Jean is close to tethering over the edge.
But a deal is a deal.
He nods, accepting it. Neil makes another noise of relief.
Renee looks at Andrew and rumbles. We need to take him back right now, or we lose him.
And he hates this, but if Jean dies here, then Andrew has broken his promise. And Jean isn't the only thing keeping Neil tied to Riko, but if Andrew can't help him here, then he can't expect that Neil will trust Andrew to handle anything else.
He gestures with his head, and Renee quickly understands. She shifts, which makes Neil clamp down on his jaw to stop a surprised yelp as she slides up on Jean's other side and helps to take some of his weight. Jean makes a grunt of complaint, but noise means he's still alive.
Renee moves Jean to Andrew's side, Neil following her lead without question, until he realises what the plan is.
"Are you sure?" Neil asks.
Andrew huffs at him. Don't ask me that again.
Neil presses his lips together and nods, seeming to understand. With grim determination, he helps hoist Jean over Andrew's back. Neil fumbles with his coat for a moment before he shrugs it off and passes it over to Renee, very intently looking away from her naked figure.
His arms are covered in scars, bare for the first time since Andrew's seen him, and he takes in as many details as he can before Neil can wrap his arms back around his body to shield them. Renee thanks him and slides it over her shoulders, but before she jumps up on Andrew's back, she holds her hand out for Neil.
"You can come," she promises kindly.
His face pinches. He looks back at Andrew as he replies, "Not yet."
Andrew stares at him. You can. I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, either. Whatever Riko has against you, I will stand before it.
But Neil has made his decision.
"Look after him," Neil says, taking a step back.
Andrew, for a moment, falters. If Jean is out of Riko's reach, and Neil returns to it, then there's no doubt about who will be the main focus of his cruelty.
And Neil still won't stand behind him, not even when he's willingly returning to that.
"Go, Andrew," Neil says, more desperate now.
Neil came all this way. Came as close as he's ever come to the sanctuary. Just for Jean — just to get to Andrew.
It’s going to have to be enough. And Jean doesn’t have the time to waste, and neither does Andrew.
Andrew turns and runs. Renee grips him, and when she makes a noise to signal that she's steady and that Jean is too, he takes to the sky.
The scent of Neil, lingering on his jacket, taunts him the entire time.
Renee does most of the talking once they’re back at the sanctuary, reassuring everyone that Jean's safe, that he won't harm them, that they need to help him.
They falter the moment they catch sight of the brand on his face, the hunter declaration dark and so visible on his skin, but they're already moving before Renee can even finish appealing. Bleeding hearts, all of them.
When Kevin spots him, he turns an impressive shade of white. He's torn between Jean and Andrew for a moment, but Andrew makes the decision for him and decides to leave the hall for everyone to fuss over Jean — he moved the fastest he could, got him to the best healer he knows, and he knows it'll be enough. Jean's heart is already sounding steadier, and the scent of blood is fading with every passing minute. He knows his end of the deal is promised.
As expected, Kevin stays by Jean's side. Andrew takes the chance to go near the edges of the sanctuary, keeping an eye out while everyone fusses around the newest guest.
Wymack finds him a little while later.
Andrew had silently given Renee the go-ahead to mention Neil's presence if she felt it necessary. She hasn't mentioned it to Kevin, he knows, even though he's been trying to pry answers from them the moment they turned up with Jean. But he knows she's mentioned it to Wymack, judging by the way he looks at Andrew when he comes to stand beside him.
"Just what the hell have you brought to my doorstep, kid?" He sighs, currently turning over a flask in his hands.
If he thought Jean was going to be a threat, he'd be right there in the room. But Jean's in no condition to be dangerous and they know it.
Besides, if Riko's branding was all they needed to turn someone away, then Kevin never would have made it here.
Wymack decides to take a sip of his drink. He thumbs his bottom lip once he drops the flask, thinking something over. Andrew leans over to sniff at the flask, but Wymack pushes his face away.
"Reserved," Wymack says, "for bodies that aren't going to burn through this in a minute."
Andrew huffs at him, but pulls back. He'd drink out of spite, but alcohol isn't the best-tasting thing as a dragon anyway. And, granted, he did just drop a near-dead hunter on his doorstep. Wymack probably needs the drink more than anyone at this rate.
"I'm going to have to hide this from Kevin," Wymack sighs, tilting the flask in the sunlight. "Seriously. It's like I've taken in alcoholic-obsessed fae into this sanctuary."
Andrew doesn't even bother rolling his eyes. His own intake has gone since shifting, but Kevin easily drinks enough for two. But Wymack’s the one who makes the trades, and they’ve yet to find a clutch that Kevin will grip onto other than alcohol. If Wymack has anyone to blame, his own name is right there in the pile.
"He's taking it hard," Wymack says, after another contemplative sip.
That, Andrew knows, is nothing short of a shitshow. He can still hear Kevin's heart in his ears, pounding too loud, too fast. Wymack's done a decent job in calming him down, but it seems the responsibility has passed over to Bee now.
It's quiet for a few moments, as Wymack drinks and as Andrew looks out in the forest, straining his senses. But there's no whisper of Neil in the forest, nothing to indicate he's moved any closer to the sanctuary, though Andrew knows there'd be no hope of that happening today.
"We're stretched thin as it is," Wymack eventually breaks the quiet with, “and he’s going to need healing. I've asked Rhemann if he has room to take him, and he's being gracious enough to humour me. I think Kevin's spoken to Jeremy before, though, about this boy. When he's doing a little better, Renee offered to guide him to their borders."
Neil has worried that dragging Jean to the sanctuary won't be enough to keep him from running right back to Riko. But Andrew knows that Renee won't let him slip from her sight — if anyone's going to make sure he gets there, even further from Riko's reach than ever before, then it'll be Renee. Andrew's promise won't break yet.
"Sometimes it takes a few tries, you know," Wymack says. "Before someone actually reaches out for help."
Andrew snorts at him. He doesn't need the pep talk.
Wymack sighs, but he's not entirely undeterred. "Whatever you're planning, whatever it is with that number three hunter... Look, I trust that you won't do anything stupid when it comes to the sanctuary. But Moriyama's slippery, kid. Just watch your back."
Andrew flicks his tail. His back is well covered.
"Yes, well, you've been shot down before," Wymack reminds him. This time, Andrew thwacks the back of Wymack's knees with his tail. He grunts, but he remains standing. "Asshole."
Andrew's had enough of the conversation, so he keeps walking around the boundaries. Wymack follows him for a short while, thankfully silent, but eventually he's called in.
Andrew stays outside, listening. Waiting.
Jean wakes up three days later. Neil has not appeared at the stream any night since dragging Jean through the forest.
Andrew's taken to pressing by Kevin's side, because he's become even more unstable with Jean's bruised and bloody body in their sanctuary. He usually sits by Jean's bedside, which means Andrew is usually by Jean's bedside, boredly watching the way Jean's chest rises and falls.
And then Jean wakes up, and it becomes even more of a shitshow than Andrew would have bet on.
Jean wakes and looks around in a panic, eyes not quite settling on anything, not quite taking anything in. But then he sees Kevin, and Andrew watches the way his expression changes, morphing into something devastated and furious. He immediately slips into another language — the one he'd been speaking with Neil — and Kevin fires back just as quickly.
"Easy," Aaron warns, halfway across the room already, watching Jean's bandages as he stretches and pulls at them, moving and attempting to get out of the bed. He shoots a look at Nicky as he goes to Jean's bedside. "Go get Abby."
Nicky hesitates only a moment before hurrying out of the room. In the meantime, Jean's still attempting to get out of bed, and his focus is entirely on Kevin. Andrew comes forward, ready to push Jean back down the moment he comes too close, but Kevin's the one to put out a hand to stop him.
"He won't hurt me," Kevin says, switching language.
Jean seems to understand, as his eyes narrow, but then flicker away. When he speaks, it's still unrecognisable, but it's quieter. No less sharp, though.
For a moment, his gaze lands on Andrew. Sizes him up. And then he looks away.
Riko, it seems, has a thing for branding hunters who are, by all means, not very willing to be hunters.
"Stop moving, asshole," Aaron snaps, pushing Jean's shoulder back so that he lies down. "I'm not going to waste our supplies on your stupidity."
"You shouldn't have wasted them at all," Jean replies.
Oh, good, so he speaks.
"Jean," Kevin says, voice a warning.
Jean scowls. "Don't. I have to get back."
"You're not going back," Kevin says, firm.
And then Jean looks right at Andrew. But not as something to hunt — but there's anger, there. A level of detestment. Andrew doesn't care for it.
"You let him go," Jean says, angry.
Andrew shows teeth, lips pulling back before he can even think about it.
Kevin stops, then.
"Jean," he says, different now. Careful.
Jean looks at him because it seems like a natural response, but he ends up looking back at Andrew anyway, anger still burning.
"You are an idiot," Jean sneers. "He's going to get himself killed. I need to get back there before he does something truly stupid."
"You have a partner," Kevin says, stunned, coming to a realisation. "You—"
Kevin has, at least, warned them about the ‘partner’ system that the Moriyamas employ. But Andrew thinks about the way Neil had been careful with Jean, the way he’d finally taken the deal with Andrew, and the fury that Jean is looking at him with.
It certainly means something different than it’d meant between Riko and Kevin. Andrew ponders this, but doesn’t let anything in his expression show.
"Yes," Jean says, switching his focus back to Kevin when he realises he's not going to get anything from Andrew. "And now you see why I have to go back."
"That's not happening," Aaron cuts in, currently fiddling with some medications on the side. "You know where we are now. You're not going running back to them."
It's enough to make Jean startle. "That's— I wouldn't—"
"But Riko would suspect you've been here," Kevin says, face clouded for a moment before it clears. "You can't go back, Jean. You nearly died. You will if you go back."
Jean slips into the other language, low and furious, but Andrew catches a whisper of a name. Nathaniel.
Kevin is rocked by the use of it, tripping over his words for a moment, but he manages to speak through the sudden obstacle. Andrew's had enough of them speaking when he can't understand it, and he lets out a low rumble, sparks at the back of his throat threatening to ignite.
It catches everyone's attention. Jean gives him a sullen look, the momentum of anger between Jean and Kevin coming to a halt as he does so. Kevin doesn't look away from Jean, though. And eventually he puts his fist down by Jean's bedside, fingers curled — Andrew's not sure if it's for Kevin or Jean's sake, so that they don't reach for each other.
"Nathaniel will be alright," Kevin says quietly, keeping to the language they all speak. "He will survive."
Nathaniel. Neil.
Which one is real?
"Riko has grown too unreasonable. And Nathaniel's attitude won't help matters," Jean says, but he sounds less fiery, now. More resigned.
Kevin's fingers twitch, but he doesn't reach out.
Eventually, he says, "You're staying here until you're healed enough to travel. And then I am putting you in Jeremy's care."
"Jeremy?" Jean chokes out. He immediately flusters before he gets furious, his ears turning an interesting shade of red.
Abby walks through the door at that moment. Andrew takes the chance to walk out the door with Kevin, leaving behind Jean's betrayed expression.
Kevin's a wreck. He goes straight for Wymack's, rifling through chests until he finds the liquor. Andrew doesn't bother stopping him, but he herds Kevin back to his own place so that he doesn't go out and do something more stupid. If he's going to get shit-faced, then he can do it where he's not going to cause any damage.
Kevin takes a swig, but to Andrew's mild surprise, he slows and studies Andrew.
After a few moments, he says, "You met Nathaniel, then."
Andrew tilts his head. And then decides this conversation is going to be interesting enough to be worth the effort. He makes Kevin turn around, looking into the corner, and then he shifts, pulling some clothes over his frame. He only lets Kevin know he's done when he swipes the bottle, taking his own swig.
Unlike Kevin, he isn’t planning to get wasted — Neil still hasn't made an appearance, but Andrew's not going to take the risk of missing him if he shows up tonight. If he gets intoxicated as a human, it'll linger even if he shifts forms.
Everything lingers when he shifts from human to dragon. The scars under his bands feel tight and itchy.
"He told me his name was Neil," Andrew says.
Kevin looks surprised, but then after considering it for a few moments, he gives a small, tense shrug. "It might be. The Moriyamas know him as Nathaniel, so that's all he's allowed to be with them."
"He's the Butcher's son."
Kevin grimaces and takes another swig. "He is."
"Hm," Andrew considers. He pushes his shoulders back, the stretch of his wings psychosematic. "I suppose that makes sense as to why he could shoot me down."
He's been aware of Neil's potential identity for a while, now. Ever since Kevin first mentioned it, he's kept it at the back of his mind. It didn't make sense, not at the time, as to why the Butcher's son would let him go, but — well. Andrew's asked Neil himself. The Butcher's son is not all that Neil is.
Kevin curses. "So it was him."
"It was," Andrew pointlessly confirms, just to get Kevin to get to the point faster.
"And then he let you go," Kevin figures, after a few quiet moments.
Andrew tilts his head, not giving a response other than something that signifies yes, obviously.
"Nathaniel's too valuable to the Moriyamas," Kevin breathes out. "And Riko's been looking for him for a long time. Riko won't hurt him... Not to the extent that he can — that he did — with Jean, at least."
"He'll still hurt him," Andrew says.
"He will," Kevin says quietly.
He already has — the branding on his cheek, the most visible. But there had been newer scars, still-healing wounds, on Neil's arms and wrists when he'd pulled off the coat to give it to Renee. But some of them had been old, too. Deeper. Worse.
Neil's not scared of Riko, not for himself. He'd been scared for Jean, though — but now Jean is with them, a promised deal.
But with confirmation about who Neil's father is, it's not hard to put the pieces together. This is the leverage that Riko has over Neil — this is the reason Neil won't head for safety.
Kevin seems to be thinking along the same line as him, as he looks over at Andrew in consideration.
"He won't come here because of you," Kevin says.
Andrew's fists clench.
Stupid, stupid boy.
Andrew is trying to put Neil behind him, to stand between him and Riko, but Neil's always been thinking about his father. And he's always been thinking about the cost of putting Andrew in his line of sight.
"He's an idiot," Andrew grits out.
"You can't go up against his father," Kevin says, shaking his head. He runs a hand down his face and takes another swig. "If Neil went back to him, Riko might take it as a sign of obedience, at least. He might not call in Neil's father to this region. Besides, he wants to be the one to kill you. He won't pass that kill over to Nathan — not until his ego concedes to the ease of just getting rid of you, at least."
"I don't care what he does. I'll kill him first," Andrew says, certain.
Kevin takes another swig. "But there will still be Nathan."
"I'll kill him too."
Kevin looks Andrew over. He lets out a shaky breath. Then takes another drink.
Andrew shifts, and nothing else is said between them.
Neil does not come by the stream for a week.
And then, one night, he's there. Andrew catches the scent of him before he sees him, but he moves fast enough that there's hardly a breath between it.
Neil's on his feet, already waiting. His heart rate is elevated, anxious.
"How's Jean?" He asks hurriedly, even though Andrew is very much in his dragon form.
He's got the satchel around his neck, though. He should have shifted before making his way to the stream and into Neil's sight, but he doesn't bother to dissect why he hasn't.
He dismissively flicks his head, and Neil understands. He lets out an audible breath of relief.
"Thank you," he says.
Andrew catalogues his features carefully: he's moving slowly and doing his best to hide it. He's slouched against the tree, but he hasn't moved to sit down, and he hasn't tried to straighten up even as Andrew made his appearance. He's holding his hands carefully, trying his best not to move them. But he's not bleeding, at least. Not actively, anyway.
He must catch Andrew's gaze lingering on his hands, as his fingers flex out.
"Sorry," he says, with a grimace. "No food this time. I'll make it up to you."
Andrew turns his back. Neil makes a half-choked noise, actively stopping himself from saying something, and then Andrew hears him take a step and practically hears the way his teeth grind together, trying to bite back another noise. He turns around and grumbles, and Neil stops and stares.
Wait, Andrew huffs at him.
Neil presses his lips together, like he's still trying to resist speaking, but he settles back against the tree and lets out a less pained breath.
Andrew shifts in the cover of foliage. He tugs down his sleeves nonchalantly as he emerges, and stares down Neil for a few moments.
Then, he asks, "Neil or Nathaniel?"
Neil's surprise is evident, but it fades after a moment. He must have suspected reuniting Jean and Kevin would mean giving up his identity.
"Neil," he replies. Andrew nods. Neil's shoulders slump in relief. "I should have told you."
Andrew tilts his head in acknowledgment, but he can understand: he might not have seen beyond the Butcher's son if Neil had admitted it so early.
"It wasn't hard to figure out," he says instead. "I just didn't know the name the Moriyamas used for you."
Neil lets out a breath. "Kevin uses it too."
"As does Jean," Andrew points out.
Neil shakes his head. "Not in private."
Andrew raises his eyebrows.
"What is he to you?" Andrew asks, out of all the many questions he probably should prioritise.
"My partner," Neil replies automatically. Andrew stares at him until Neil shifts a little, feet digging into the dirt under his boots. "My other half."
"I think most people would just use the term 'boyfriend'," Andrew says.
That, interestingly, makes Neil splutter. He straightens up, pulling a hiss between his teeth, but taking the energy to speak anyway. "No. It's not— we're not like that. It's just... the Moriyamas. Things are intense. Different. But he's not— no. It's not like that. How is he, though?"
He's never quite seen Neil stumble so much over his words. It's interesting to watch — he wants to pry further, especially as Neil seems so eager to change the topic on him. But, at the same time, he's finding out more than he meant to.
The problem hadn't been that Jean was a man. Hadn't had a problem with the word boyfriend.
That's more than enough to ponder over and torment himself with for now.
"Wants to go back," Andrew replies, to Neil's unsurprising nod. "He wants to go back to you, mostly. Has the strangest idea that your mouth is going to land you in trouble."
He says it so dryly that it has Neil's mouth twitching upwards. "Well, Riko hasn't sewn my lips together yet."
"Only a matter of time," Andrew says.
Neil hums, undisturbed by what is probably a very real possibility when it comes to Riko. He needs Neil's skills, not his mouth — but then again, Riko is probably waiting for Neil to trip himself up, to use any excuse to let out his anger and childishness. "We'll see."
Andrew nods to Neil's ribs, pointing out the tenderness he's trying to hide, and doesn't bother saying anything. Neil doesn't bother acting like he's sheepish about hiding it. They both know Riko isn't the problem here, though.
"You promised me a deal," Andrew says.
Neil tilts his head, a mirror of Andrew's earlier action. "How do I know Jean isn't currently making his grand escape without you there to guard the door?"
Not a total denial, but a challenge — a delay.
Andrew rolls his eyes and decides to entertain it for now. "Well, Renee has taken post."
"Renee," Neil repeats, then nods slowly as recognition dawns. "Okay."
"Okay?" Andrew echoes, because he knows there's more for Neil to say.
"Riko thinks he's dead," Neil says, then runs a hand over his face. "Or, at least, I made him think it. If he finds out Jean's alive, then..."
"He won't. We won't keep him at our sanctuary, either. She's accompanying him to Rhemann's," Andrew says. "And Jeremy will know to keep his survival quiet."
"Knox?" Neil asks, taken by surprise by that development.
"Problem?"
"Maybe for Jean," Neil huffs, but it's all amusement. His eyes soften, the lines of his mouth losing their jagged sharpness. "They'll take him?"
"They will," Andrew confirms.
"Yeah, that'll be... Yeah. That'll be good for him." He squares his shoulders, meeting Andrew's eyes again. "I can't accept a deal to go back with you, but... anything else, within reason. It's yours."
"That's a dangerous offer."
Neil shakes his head. "I trust you."
Ah. Isn't that a strange revelation. Andrew pinches at the fabric of his pants, just out of view of Neil's gaze, as he turns over his thoughts.
"It's the same," Andrew says, looking back at Neil. Before Neil can protest, he cuts in. "On my end, not yours. You trust that I handle Riko."
Unspoken, he means and everything else keeping you there.
Neil bites the inside of his cheek. "Andrew—"
"Your father cannot get to you if he cannot find you," Andrew says. "And Riko cannot call for him if he's dead."
"Kengo will send him. Or my father will take me back."
It's clear, by his expression, by his heartbeat, how much the thought of it terrifies him.
Andrew swallows down the sour taste in his mouth. He keeps his breaths even.
"Then we will make a new one when it's needed. But this is the deal I want for Jean: you provide us information about Riko's movements. You keep us updated about his plans. We need to start getting ahead of his hunts. That's how I want to handle Riko — for now, at least."
"You won't kill him," Neil realises.
Andrew gives a one-shouldered shrug. "You're right: killing him suddenly won't stop the Moriyamas, or the hunts. But if we can stop scrambling at the last minute, we might be able to get ahead."
Neil looks away as he considers the offer. Slowly, he nods.
"Alright," he says. "I can do that."
"And you bring me two strawberry tarts next visit," Andrew adds.
Neil stifles a laugh. "Okay. That's probably less doable, but I suppose I have to make up for today's."
"One, then," Andrew says. "And you tell me about those scars on your arms."
He watches Neil resist the instinct to flinch. His fingers dig into the sleeves of his shirt, reminding Andrew he's still got Neil's coat in his satchel. He considers the stream for a moment, decides he still doesn't want to be the one to cross it with his human legs, then beckons Neil to walk over. Neil steps through the stream carefully, managing to keep his balance even as he steps between rocks that Andrew knows would send most — including him — into the stream.
Andrew reaches into the satchel and pulls out the coat, then takes the couple of steps Neil has left between them to pass it over. Neil presses it between his fingers, thumbs rubbing over the fabric.
"You washed it," he says.
"Renee washed it," he corrects. He probably would have left it — Neil's scent faded all too much for his liking. But Jean's blood lingered on the fabric, too, which is why Renee had insisted on it before she passed it back over to Andrew.
Neil's expression twists slightly, but he nods. "Thanks."
He slides it back over his arms. He's careful with his ribs — and Andrew uses his hearing, but he doesn't hear bones grinding. It's just tender, likely bruised. Riko's escalation will hopefully be slow enough that there's time for Andrew to put all the pieces together before something becomes irreversible.
Neil tugs the sleeves down, and Andrew's gaze lingers before he makes himself meet Neil's eyes. They're always a little surprising, even when Andrew has them memorised.
"Two tarts, next time, then," Andrew says. He almost wants to go for their usual walk, but he can tell Neil's in more pain than he's letting on, and Riko's probably got his eye more closely on Neil. This small glimpse, for now, has been enough — he's finally gotten the deal, which means that though Riko can try, he will not get to keep Neil.
"Three days," Neil replies, not quite answering Andrew's own questioning statement. "I'll have better information about Riko to give you then, anyway. He's been preoccupied with Jean's disappearance and subsequent death."
"Three days," Andrew repeats in confirmation.
He's gone a week without seeing Neil, knowing he'd been walking back into Riko's hands after the mess he made of Jean. Three days, he tells himself, he can do.
And, at the least, he knows that Neil can.
Just before Jean and Renee leave, Jean pulls him aside. He's walking better, most of his injuries healed now. His eyes are still dull, listless, but there's the slightest spark of a fire when he stares Andrew down.
He'll survive. Even if he doesn't want to.
"You won't be enough to save him," Jean tells him.
Andrew flicks out his tail — he's annoyed, but the motion conveys more of a and you think that you were?
Jean scowls, surprisingly adept at gauging Andrew's reactions. But perhaps he's just very self-aware of his shortcomings when it comes to saving Neil.
"The Moriyamas are not to be trifled with. And his father... that won't be a meeting he survives, especially if you are stupid enough to get him in trouble," Jean says.
Andrew takes a step towards him and tastes fire in the back of his throat. Jean is only standing here because Andrew has made a deal to save him.
Jean holds his gaze, but then it flitters away.
"But you're his best chance, now," Jean admits, quietly. He takes in a deep breath, then lets it go. "When he was found, he fought against Riko, even with the threat of his father looming. But he was worn down, over time. And he was protecting me. He stopped fighting. Resigned himself to being a hunter for Riko, to being Nathaniel. I thought Neil was gone for good. And then he met you."
Andrew settles back, giving Jean space to breathe without the threat of heat.
"He has something to fight for, but Riko will do everything he can to stamp that out. His father will be called in soon enough," Jean says, meeting Andrew's eyes again. "You will be no match for him when that happens. And neither will he."
His father is only human, Andrew wants to say. He could shift and tell Jean as much, but he doesn't think that response will mean much to Jean anyway. And there's no use pretending that he doesn't know well that humans can be the worst of anyone.
Maybe Renee senses that Andrew is done with the conversation, as she walks over with a sheepish smile.
"Jean," she says kindly. "We should get going."
He nods, his gaze lingering a second too long as he looks over at her. Andrew meets Renee's eyes, amused, but she only lets the moment last for a moment before she reaches out for Jean.
Jean's entranced enough to almost follow along without a word, but as soon as he takes a step, he hesitates and looks back at Andrew.
"If you manage the impossible," Jean says, "then tell him I said I'll see him later."
Jean will survive. Andrew will do his best to make sure Neil does too.
He nods, and with that, Jean goes.
Neil only brings one tart.
"Told you," he says, cupping it between his hands as he makes his way over the stream at Andrew's beckoning. "Little less doable than the information part of things."
Andrew takes it from his hands. He's already shifted, and he breaks off a piece of the outside crust and pops it in his mouth. Neil is watching him very intently, gaze lingering on the spot where Andrew's tongue darts at the side of his mouth.
"Jean's started the journey with Renee," Andrew says. "I don't like him much, by the way. He was better unconscious."
Neil regards him for a moment. His expression is steady, but the tips of his ears are the slightest shade of pink.
"I think you liked him," Neil decides.
Andrew rolls his eyes and pops another piece of the strawberry sweetness into his mouth. He makes Neil wait for his next words. "He said he'll see you later, by the way."
Neil rocks back, ever so slightly. His shoulders hunch. Finally, he says, "Thank you."
Andrew decides not to reveal anything else Jean said to him — he already knows Neil does not want him in Nathan's path, and until Andrew can propose a new deal, then it's not worth starting the argument about it.
They start walking, both on the same side of the stream, and Neil talks about Riko's latest plans. Andrew shows no reaction to the information, tucking it away in the back of his mind to recite later to Wymack, but Neil doesn't seem to doubt that he's listening.
They take the lap, and Neil ran out of information to give over twenty minutes ago. Still, Andrew stays, and they keep the same pace. When they circle back to their usual spot, Neil holds out his hands to take the cloth from Andrew that he's been folding and unfolding for most of the walk.
"I accrue interest," Andrew says, passing it over. "Three tarts, next time."
Neil takes back the cloth and shoves it in one of his pockets. He looks around, and then after a moment, he shrugs the coat off and places it down on the ground. His fingers hesitate at the bottom hem of his shirt, but he decides to pull up his sleeves instead.
Andrew's already seen some of the scars, in the brief glance he'd gotten when Neil passed his coat to Renee, but now he has the chance to properly study them. Neil turns his arms over and offers them out, and after a quick glance at his expression, Andrew reaches out.
He can tell Neil is doing his best not to react, but his next breath is too forceful on the exhale. Still, he remains pliant under Andrew's touch, letting Andrew turn his arms and inspect them. Andrew sees the wounds that Riko has left him with, but it's the deeper, older ones he studies.
"I've heard he likes knives," Andrew says, because he can recognise the width of each scar, and he can imagine the blade that's been pressed there. Each cut forever engraved into Neil's skin.
Neil shudders. He looks away, gaze distant as he stares at the stream behind Andrew.
"He does," Neil replies, voice scratchy.
Andrew drops his arms, resisting the urge to push the sleeves further up, to pull up the bottom of Neil's shirt like he'd almost done earlier.
Neil reaches for his coat and slides it back on without glancing at his arms.
"One tart, next time?" Neil says, doing his best to get his voice back to normal.
"Hm," Andrew replies, not quite giving an answer, but Neil nods all the same like he knows.
"Four days," Neil says.
"Three."
"Three," Neil corrects, with a small, private smile. Andrew does not meet it with one of his own, but Neil doesn't mind.
Andrew shifts at the sanctuary. He follows Kevin to the meeting hall, where he gets plenty of double-takes when they realise Aaron's already in the room.
"Oh, good, you're finally joining the conversation," is all Wymack greets him with, already turning back to the map he's studying, barely taking in Andrew's presence for more than a second. He is not, at all, surprised.
Because of that, Andrew slinks up beside him, then bodily nudges him out of the way of the map. Wymack grunts as he's shoved aside, but he passes the marker he's been using over, and Andrew takes it. He writes down notes, not bothering to speak yet, and the rest of the room remains silent as they watch.
He's careful about what he notes down: if he reveals too much, he knows they'll move too fast. They need to get ahead, but Andrew won't do it at the cost of Riko realising he's got a leak.
"Well then," Wymack says, when Andrew takes a step back and hands him the marker again. "Good to have you back, Andrew."
Andrew gives him a salute and then takes post beside Kevin as they work out a new strategy. Aaron is eyeing him warily, but it turns into an obvious question when he catches that Andrew is meeting his gaze. Nicky is a little braver in his approach, a smile on his face as he looks Andrew over.
"I forgot how short you are," is how he decides to enter the conversation, which makes Andrew ever regret shifting at all. But Nicky's eyes are soft, and his smile is genuine as he looks over Andrew.
"How could you? Aaron is literally right there," Matt mumbles, joining the conversation from the outskirts. When Andrew flicks a cool gaze his way, Matt just grins and shrugs at him, not at all apologetic. It seems like everyone's decided to try and come a little closer than they ever usually dare — they're still wary enough to remain out of slashing range, but maybe curiosity has drawn them closer.
Andrew remains silent as he stands, and soon enough, everyone gets used to his presence as a human. It's the same, after that — they plan, strategise, and they ignore that Andrew is just lurking, whether as a dragon or as a human. But he listens more intently than he usually does, making sure no movements they make are going to be too much or too risky.
But he's right to leave Neil's information in Wymack's hands, and by the end of the meeting, he's satisfied that there's going to be minimal risk to their movements.
"Andrew," Wymack calls out, stopping him before he can also filter out.
Kevin lingers, too, but Andrew gestures for him to go ahead. He knows Nicky and Aaron won't go far, as they'll swamp Kevin with questions, which means they'll all be within range.
"Can I expect that we get more updates like this?" Wymack asks, gesturing to the map with all their updated strategies. When Andrew nods, his expression twists slightly, before he exhales. "Alright. Can I ask who it's coming from?"
Andrew thinks for a moment, then decides. "The Butcher's son."
It falls silent. Wymack is staring at him in complete shock. It almost makes Andrew smile.
"Christ, Minyard," Wymack says heavily, running a hand down his face.
Andrew shrugs. "Oops."
"What have you offered for it?" Wymack asks, studying him carefully.
"Jean's safety," Andrew replies.
Wymack's mouth pinches. He looks at Andrew, then shakes his head. "His, too, I bet. Am I right?"
"Not yet," Andrew echoes the words, the slightest bitter taste. "He won't take that deal. Not with his father still alive."
Wymack blinks. Then realisation crosses his expression, annoyingly fast. "He won't take it for your safety."
"Have I told you I hate him? I think you can understand why."
Wymack's lips twitch. "Sure."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask, then passes it over. Andrew downs half of it just to annoy him.
"Can I ask about yours?" Neil asks.
They're on the same side of the stream again, but Neil's keeping a bit more distance than he usually does. Earlier, Andrew slipped on a slick, mossy rock, and Neil reached out for his arm to stop him from tumbling into the stream. The moment Andrew had gotten his feet back under him, Neil pulled back like he'd been burned.
"Sorry," he said immediately. "I know you don't— Sorry."
Andrew had waved off the apology, but Neil's touch still feels like it's lingering on his skin. An electric current that refuses to leave.
It's not unwanted, though. And that realisation is something he's grappling with and makes him glad that Neil is, for the time being, keeping a mindful distance between them.
But the fact Neil knows to give him distance is just something else that sits under his skin. Andrew almost falls into the temptation to shift, just to try and give it some sort of release.
He knows, though, this isn't something that's going to disappear no matter the form he takes. Neil has burrowed under his skin in all forms, and he is not going to leave.
And then, of course, he surprises Andrew by approaching a delicate topic.
He considers it, then decides to reply with a question of his own. "What will you give me for it?"
His scars are visible as a dragon, anyway. And Neil is just as scarred as him, though it's not in the same way. Still, it's about survival — and that's something both of them know intimately. Andrew won't be offering more than Neil can probably deduce anyway.
"What will you take?" Andrew scoffs at the reply, because if Neil hasn't figured out that answer, then there's no helping him. Neil sits with it for a while, then offers, "I can show you more of mine."
That's a surprising offer. After the way he'd been just rolling up his sleeves, showing Andrew the scars already seen, Andrew was sure they'd be off-limits. But here Neil is, offering them just for a glimpse into Andrew's own.
"Fine," Andrew agrees.
They're at an impasse, for a short while. Neil is quietly, but not silently, following him. He remains in Andrew's peripherals, never slipping out of view even as he keeps his distance.
"They happened when you were a human," Neil eventually says. Andrew doesn't bother acknowledging that, but Neil takes it as a cue to continue. "Because otherwise they wouldn't have scarred, right? Not like that. And it wasn't from hunters, was it?"
"One has never come close," he says, and leaves out the unspoken: until you shot me from the sky, that is.
"But something has."
"Stay on topic," Andrew warns.
Neil muses it for a moment, then dares to say, quietly, "I don't think it's unrelated."
"Think what you want," Andrew tells him, careful to keep his voice flat.
"Jean... He..." Neil falters.
Andrew spares them both — he'd seen the scars that Jean carried, too. He turns on his heels and faces Neil. Neil stops dead, and remains still as Andrew closes the distance between them.
"Your turn," Andrew says.
Neil presses his lips together, like he's about to argue, or take it back, or break his end of the bargain. But then he nods. He takes off his coat, and when Andrew reaches out, he finally tugs at the bottom of his shirt and lifts it up.
And ah.
Ah.
In this moment, he's almost glad for his memory. It means he'll be able to revisit this moment, even as all of his senses seem to short-circuit for a brief moment as he's faced with Neil's bare stomach and chest. The scars aren't the first thing he notices, but they're quick to catch his attention.
Neil doesn't move away as his fingers reach out, so he takes the permission to spread his hands across Neil's skin and follow the lines and markings.
"These aren't from knives," Andrew says, flicking his eyes up to meet Neil's.
His heart is pounding so frantically that Andrew can feel it. His fingers press in, ever so slightly.
"No," Neil agrees.
Andrew's fingers trace one of the marks he sees. Four deep grooves. Old, but certainly not helped in their healing.
His fingers press in, and his nails align at the top of the marks. Neil, finally, shudders.
"What was it, Neil?" He asks, wanting to see if Neil will be honest with him here.
"Lola," Neil answers, which is an answer and yet also not.
"Unless your father names his weapons, that sounds like an answer to who."
"It's both," Neil says. When Andrew gives him an unimpressed look for being obtuse on purpose, he explains. "She's a half-shifter. Helps him track down dragons. Helps him—"
He swallows down the rest and shakes his head. Andrew knows he's not going to get anything more if he tries to pull that particular thread, even though he desperately wants to.
Half-shifter. Not at all a common happening — more human than creature, but with just enough to retain some attributes. Clearly, Lola has gotten a sharp set of claws, and likely some nasty other attributes.
Andrew's fingers trace down the marks again, and Neil lets out a shuddering exhale. The marks stop just near his stomach, and if Andrew turns his hands just so, he'd be able to curl his fingers around Neil's sides.
He wants. Oh, he wants.
"Andrew," Neil says, voice low and wrecked, and Andrew knows he will never forget the sound of it.
Andrew's eyes trail up Neil's stomach, then chest, then to his face. His own mind goes blank as he sees the way that Neil is looking at him.
"Don't," Andrew says, lifting his fingers from Neil's stomach just so he can take Neil's chin in his hands and turn his face away.
Neil goes without resistance, but Andrew can see the amusement in his expression, pulling at the corner of his lips.
"Why not?" Neil asks, directing the question to the stream as he drops his shirt down, covering his stomach and chest once more.
Andrew drops his hand from Neil's face, but he doesn't step away.
"You are a bad idea," Andrew says. Neil is a dangerous one — and it's not because he is the Butcher's son, either.
"But you want to kiss me, right?"
How bold of him. Andrew wants to push his face even further away, but he clenches his fingers by his sides instead, and then relaxes when he sees Neil slowly turn back towards him.
"No."
"You're sure? Even if I said I want to kiss you?"
"I don't want anything," Andrew warns him.
"I don't believe you."
For a moment, Andrew wonders if Neil can hear his heartbeat. He falls quiet, and he's about to take a step back, but Neil locks eyes with him and keeps him in place.
And then, before he can even think about it, he reaches out and cups Neil's cheeks, then steps forward and kisses him.
He could lie to himself. Say he's only doing it to shut Neil's mouth. Only doing it so he doesn't have to see Neil's bright blue eyes.
But Neil already has him figured out: Andrew, simply, wants.
So he lets himself. Neil is already a bad idea — it's too late to take it back. He kisses, and he feels Neil's breath catch on a gasp, the amused tilt to his lips dying swift and suddenly, but it's barely a split-second before he's kissing back, eager.
He feels Neil take a step back to steady himself, and he moves with him. Keeps them both balanced as Neil's hands come up, and before Andrew can even warn him, Neil's fingers find purchase in Andrew's coat and carefully away from his skin.
Andrew kisses him a little harder for that. Neil makes a noise in the back of his throat that makes something low in Andrew's stomach roar to life.
He pulls back, just because he knows that he will keep wanting, taking, more. He wants to push and pull at Neil until he falls apart, until he draws every noise from his throat. It'll be too much.
But when he looks at Neil's expression, the fire in his stomach only burns brighter. Neil looks dazed, eyes fluttering open, his usual smart mouth and quick wit disappearing in a thick fog. It's clear that Neil has wanted — just as much. More, even. Andrew lets himself commit the expression to memory, every single inch of it.
Neil sways forward. Andrew lets himself have one more quick, hard kiss, and then pushes him back. Neil stumbles, but manages to remain on his feet. The smile at the corner of his lips makes an infuriating appearance once more, though when his fingers come up, it's not to try and wipe the expression from his face like he usually does. Now, he traces his lips reverently, looking at Andrew in something like wonder.
Andrew turns and starts walking. Neil barely lets him get two steps ahead before he follows, still careful of staying in Andrew's peripheral but not within reaching distance.
Andrew feels jittery. The livewire under his skin is buzzing. He wants to shift, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to take measured steps on human legs.
Kissing Neil is a stupid idea, but he's gone and done it, and now he'll never forget what it's like. He thought he'd known better than to go and do something like this, but he's realising just how woefully wrong he was. It's a hard realisation to battle with, especially with the very object of all of his wants and desires and should-not-haves is walking alongside him, silent, knowing exactly what Andrew needs.
He only speaks, right at the end of their walk.
"Three days?" Neil questions — hopeful, almost, like he doesn't expect Andrew to agree but so desperately wants him to.
Andrew can't bring himself to speak, but Neil's smile when he nods is another memory he wouldn’t be able to forget if he tried.
They receive word that Renee and Jean have made it to Rhemann's territory. There's another note returned with Rhemann's, which Wymack hands over to Kevin — Andrew figures it's from Jeremy, judging by his reaction, but Kevin shoves his face away when he tries to read over Kevin's shoulder.
Kevin's no match against a dragon, though, and Andrew catches enough of a glimpse to understand the gist: Jeremy's worried about Riko's movements, worried about Kevin, and particularly worried about Jean. He recites what he can to Neil the next time they meet, and Neil nods along with growing relief at each word. He's been fidgety, restless, and Andrew had an idea of why, but he doesn't beckon Neil across the stream just yet.
It's not about denying Neil — not entirely. Bee would say it's probably something to do with denying himself.
Whatever it is, he pushes it aside, and makes himself speak of other matters first. His lack of acknowledgment about their kiss makes Neil nervous, but he settles with the information that Andrew provides him about Jean for the moment, even as his gaze lingers on Andrew's face.
"Do you bet, Neil?" He asks.
Neil furrows his eyebrows. "On what?"
Andrew shrugs. "Anything. Everything. Everyone at the sanctuary does."
"Including you?"
"Once or twice," Andrew answers. Only when he knows that he's going to rake in the winnings.
"I haven't," Neil says, which isn't I won't, but it seems close enough.
"I would bet on Jeremy and Jean," Andrew says.
Neil pauses, like he's waiting for something. And then he asks, "On what?"
"I miss Renee," he sighs, not even bothering to reply to Neil's confusion. When she gets back, at least she'll be able to provide him plenty of updates on Jeremy and Jean, because at least she's on the same page with getting gossip.
He should've bet that Neil wouldn't quite get it — he was, is, eager to kiss Andrew, but it's clear it's not something he's done much of. Andrew doesn't mind that, not when Neil's desire is more than enough to make up for it, but he probably should've expected that Neil doesn't have much experience with dating or relationships.
He's alluded to much, once, though it'd been brief and quickly glossed over. He met a girl, once, kissed her, and realised it wasn't worth it. Andrew should probably pry a bit more about that story, but he supposes it doesn't matter now: Neil's still looking at his lips, and Andrew's sure that if he listened, he'd hear Neil's heartbeat climbing in anticipation.
"On them dating?" Neil questions, a few moments too late, finally catching on.
"More like fucking," Andrew replies, but then shrugs. "But sure, dating."
Neil's expression does something a little funny at Andrew's answer.
"You wouldn't bet on it?" Andrew asks.
Neil pulls at his bottom lip, and now it's Andrew suddenly taking too much notice of the shape of his lips.
"I mean, maybe," Neil replies, thinking it over. "Jean— I don't know. He likes it, I think. Sex."
Andrew pauses. Carefully, he asks, "You don't?"
Neil releases his bottom lip, then mirrors Andrew's earlier shrug. "It's not something I've thought about, I guess. Not really."
But there's a moment of quiet, a pause that means there's a but in there, right at the end. His eyes flicker over Andrew, then away, like he's guilty of looking.
Fuck waiting.
Andrew stops, then gestures for Neil to walk through the stream and over to him. They're in a deeper part of it, but Neil doesn't hesitate. He studies the path before him, realises he's not going to have rocks to step across, and quickly gets his shoes off and pulls up his pants, walking through the water without a second thought.
"Hey," Neil says, dropping his pants back down once he's in front of Andrew.
Andrew leans forward. When Neil realises where he's reaching, he freezes, and Andrew does too. He looks up, fingers pausing right before they pull at the fabric of Neil's bag.
"You haven't offered it yet," Andrew tells him.
Neil, slowly, relaxes. He opens up his bag, and lets Andrew pluck the wrapped treat out from it. Andrew glances inside the rest of the bag, curious about Neil's reaction, but he only sees a couple of nondescript items. Some fabrics — a jacket, possibly — and a flask of water.
"I used to carry everything I owned in a single bag," Neil explains, even though Andrew doesn't ask. "When I was with my mother. When Riko found me, I had to give it all up: money, contacts, disguises. I don't carry anything important anymore, but it's a habit to keep it secret."
Andrew regards the treat in his hand. And then he tucks it away into his own bag, saving it for later.
"You don't like it?" Neil asks, confused.
"Shut up," Andrew tells him, and reaches out, but stops for a split-second to remind Neil, "No touching."
Neil puts his hands behind his back with a fast, audible clap. It'd almost be embarrassing, really, if Andrew wasn't already moving forward the moment that Neil eagerly put his hands behind his back without a single argument, just easy compliance. He rests his fingers on Neil's jaw, and then kisses him.
Neil's more prepared, this time. Andrew's not so sure if he is.
For someone who has never thought about it, for someone who thought kissing wasn't worth it, it seems like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing. He seems entirely intent on just enjoying the feeling of kissing Andrew, like this is all he could ever want.
It's more intoxicating than any pull from Wymack's flask, than any sweetened berry.
Neil seems more than content to keep the pace as they are — his hands remain clamped behind his back, and he moves easily with Andrew, and Andrew knows that Neil would be fine with just this. His hands running over Neil's clothes, intent on mapping him to memory, tracing every piece of him.
But Andrew—
Well. He wants more. And he knows that if there's anyone he could trust with that desire, it would be Neil.
His hands slowly skim to reach behind Neil's back, where he feels Neil still keeping his wrists clamped tightly together. He only digs his fingers further in as he feels Andrew's fingers brush over his own, an unbreakable force — until Andrew tugs, lightly, just enough for Neil to unlatch his grip with a questioning noise. Before he can ask, Andrew takes his hands and puts them on his own shoulders.
"Here and up," he says.
Neil's quick to tug him in for another kiss — his grip is gentle, careful with the control that Andrew is allowing him, but it's more than enough for Andrew to be glad he's able to hide his expressions. He doesn't give much away to most, but it seems like Neil understands him enough to be able to read him.
And he's still not quite used to that.
He thinks about letting things go further. Lets himself think about his fingers wandering, pressing. Thinks about knowing what Neil looks like when he's falling apart, when he comes apart, what it's like after.
But they are still in the forest, and the stream isn't going to be quite enough for Andrew to wash himself off — not right now. His mind is already spinning, control slipping, and it's too close of a ledge to go tumbling from today.
Still, Neil is happy enough to just keep it as they are, so Andrew kisses him until his lips start to tingle, until they start to go numb. He's sure Neil's are off worse — he's taken Neil's lips between his teeth every time he's made a noise that's made Andrew's iron-clad control threaten to slip, which has been a few times now.
When he pulls back, he sees the evidence — Neil's lips are red, slightly puffy where Andrew's bitten down the most, and spit-slicked.
It takes a moment for him to be able to even draw his gaze away from Neil's lips, and he sees the red flush across Neil's cheeks and ears, almost as bright as his lips. It creates a startling contrast with his eyes, which are giving away just how dazed Neil is feeling.
Neil's fingers twist in his hair, studying Andrew in turn. Andrew turns away, just as Neil leans forward and kisses the side of his lips. Then his jaw, chin, and before Andrew can push him away, Neil kisses his neck.
He can't quite help the shiver that runs down his skin.
"Oh," Neil says, still dazed, but Andrew feels his lips pulling up into a smug smile.
"The shut up rule still applies," Andrew manages to say, glad his voice remains steady.
"Sure," Neil vocally agrees, and then kisses Andrew's neck again.
"Enough from you," Andrew says, gripping Neil's hair without the same gentleness and tugging his head away from his neck. "Leech, you are."
"You like it," Neil declares.
Andrew rolls his eyes and pulls Neil's head a little further away, then drops his hands and takes a step back. Neil lets him go without resistance, fingers quick to fall from Andrew's hair.
Andrew reaches into his bag and pulls out the tart Neil's gotten for him. It keeps his fingers busy as he pulls it apart and shoves pieces between his lips.
Neil doesn't back away entirely, but he's mindful of the distance he's keeping between them. He is not mindful, however, of Andrew's shut up rule.
He speaks mostly about Riko, now, though. More about his movements, enacting further on the plan that Neil's already laid out before.
He deviates, slowly, after that. Gives Andrew another snippet of his life, somewhere between his mother running with him and Riko finding him. But Andrew doesn't bother enforcing the rule again.
Kengo is sick, and it's good timing.
He's the largest, deadliest hunter with the most territory of any yet — mostly thanks to the Butcher — though he's usually on another continent. Kevin's explained the intricacies of it to them before: Ichirou, his first son, is poised to take over leading the hunters. Riko wants that title, but he wants Kengo's — and Ichirou's — attention and affection more than anything else, especially after being passed over to Kengo's brother, Tetsuji. Tetsuji passed a couple of years ago in a hunt gone bad, leaving Riko to lead the smaller portion of hunters. He's been trying to gain Kengo's attention since, but to no success.
They hear word from Wymack's intel, but Andrew hears it from Neil, too.
Riko's starting to get angrier, more desperate, making bolder moves that are getting more and more attention. But it's not limited to his hunts, as Neil shows up to a few of their meetings sporting some new injuries.
They're not ever as bad as Jean's. Neil explains, through gritted teeth as Andrew prods at a tender bruise on his cheek, that he's too valuable for Riko to lose — and he knows it, no matter how angry he gets. If he kills Neil, after losing Kevin, after losing Jean, then Kengo will never, ever acknowledge him again.
Andrew’s not so confident in that belief.
"The others in the camp aren't so lucky," Neil says with a smile, uncaringly stretching the bruise on his face. "They're expendable. Not worth the attention of the Moriyamas, so there's no consequence to hurting them beyond repair. But no matter how much he wants to kill me, he wants Kengo to give a shit about him more. Which isn't going to happen."
Andrew taps his fingers against Neil's cheek as he thinks.
"Your father works for Kengo," Andrew says.
Neil nods, though it's a lazy movement that mostly just presses into Andrew's palm by the end of it. "He does."
"And he'll follow Ichirou when he takes power?"
"Right. The Wesninskis are to always serve the Master," Neil says, matter-of-fact.
Andrew pulls a face to let Neil know exactly what he thinks about that. Neil laughs, tilting his head to press a kiss to Andrew's palm.
"Wesninski," Andrew muses, even as his mind starts to split into following some other thoughts. He sees the way Neil reacts to the word, all raw wounds.
"You didn't know it?" Neil asks, trying to get past his discomfort.
"No," Andrew replies. "Neil Wesninski.”
Neil shudders. “I’m not a fan of that name.”
Andrew tugs at the strands of Neil's hair. "Then it's not yours."
"That's not how it works," Neil laughs, dry and without humour.
Andrew hums. "I didn't have a last name for many years." As with any piece of information he reveals, Neil's eyes light up, so Andrew decides to indulge. "I only took Minyard when I found my brother and cousin."
"Right," Neil replies, remembering. Andrew's given Neil some stories about those in the sanctuary, offering his own tales. Neil doesn't offer any about those in his camp, but that's because he doesn't actually care about them. Neither does Andrew, anyway.
He's told Neil some of the rougher details: he'd grown up alone, bouncing between communities and towns and families. He'd hidden his shifting from every single family he'd had, knowing well the cost of revealing just what he was without the human skin, until there was one. She'd been worth telling.
But her son.
Andrew's shifts were unreliable for so many years growing up. He'd gone days, stuck as a dragon, plenty of times before. But when he needed to shift into one the most, he'd been unable to be anything but other than so breakably human. And every single time following, something inside of him just— froze.
Until he'd learned about Aaron, so close in location, taken in by their cousin. Until Drake had, too. And then, despite his best efforts, Aaron and Drake had met.
And Aaron had been the one to shift, one of the only times that Andrew has ever seen, to tear into Drake.
"I'm glad," Neil had said, anger so bright that Andrew could feel it, hear it, taste it. Andrew kissed him until he could feel his lips again, and until Neil couldn't say anything else.
"Think of another name to take," Andrew says.
"It was Josten. That was the last one we used," Neil replies.
"Neil Josten," Andrew tries out. He runs a finger over Neil's lips. "I suppose that's better."
He gets distracted for a few moments, but his thoughts are still spinning, threads starting to tie together.
"If we target Riko at the right time, we might cause a disruption," Andrew says.
"A minor inconvenience," Neil corrects.
"Even if we kill him?"
Neil chews on his lip. "Maybe. That kind of shift of power... It's going to be chaotic, no matter what they're trying to tell us. Ichirou hasn't even been working on the same continent as Kengo. That's a lot of pieces to move into place."
Andrew pulls Neil's lip free from the torment of his teeth, then pinches his bottom lip from the sides, squishing it in the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"You good?" Neil asks, half muffled as Andrew still has control of his lower lip.
"If killing Riko is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, then moving you — that might hardly register on their radar while Ichirou deals with the power struggles," Andrew muses. "And with Riko's tendency to kill those under him, in the chaos of everything, you might just be overlooked."
Neil frowns, pulling back slightly so he can free his lips. "They know I'm a runaway. My father—"
"Will be tied up cleaning up things for his new Master," Andrew cuts in, knowing Neil's fear is just making him look for excuses. "Neil. You'll be ahead of your father. He will be an entire continent away, and he will be loyal to Ichirou. There isn't anything worth his time in Riko's territory."
"He will come here."
"Only if he knows where to look."
Neil studies Andrew, mouth still pulled down. "He is a dragon hunter, Andrew. He will look for you especially."
"Let him."
"Andrew," Neil admonishes, annoyed, but he's not the only one.
"He is a man, Neil. Who is under the thumb of another."
"That does not make him any less dangerous," Neil argues.
Andrew's getting nowhere talking about Nathan. Neil is still insistent on making sure Andrew isn't standing between him and his father. He switches tracks. "We are going to take advantage of the chaos of the Moriyama empire, and we are going to kill Riko. So what will you do, then?"
"Run," Neil says, low, almost a whisper.
"Only to get behind me."
Neil shakes his head, and takes a step back. "I won't put you in his line of sight, Andrew."
"You don't even know where he's looking," Andrew replies, but he knows he's not going to get through to Neil. Mentally, he recalculates. "We are going to kill Riko, and when we do, you come back to the sanctuary. And if, if, your father looks our way, then we run like you want to. Yes?"
Neil hesitates. His balance rocks on his feet. Andrew watches, breaths measured and careful.
"I run," Neil says. "But... I'll go with you. Until he looks our way."
It's not a promise — and that's exactly why Andrew nods his head.
When he gestures for Neil to close the distance he's created between them, Neil easily falls back into his space.
He won't let Neil run alone, but for now, he will take what agreement he can get.
They're closing in on Riko.
They've upset one of his latest hunts, and they're getting closer and closer to him now.
"This is it," Wymack says, tapping his finger down on the map. "We put everything we have into this fight."
"And we put Riko in the ground," Dan adds, fierce.
Andrew's leaning against the wall, arms folded, carefully watching Kevin. He's purposely walked into this meeting as a human, which doesn't make anyone's head turn anymore, but he's wondering if Kevin will look to him for protection the same way he does when Andrew's thrice his size and a walking weapon.
And then, when Kevin turns his head, he does.
The meeting finishes, everyone in high spirits to try and hide their nerves, and Andrew pushes off the wall and walks to Kevin.
"I'm not going to Rhemann's," Kevin tells him.
Andrew raises his eyebrows. Wymack must have told him the plan — keep Kevin out of Riko's line of sight, just in case his spine gives out on him, and keep him in a place where Andrew isn't going to have to worry. That place had been with Rhemann and Jeremy. And Jean, though Kevin will hate it, as the guilt he carries about Jean will be enough to stifle his cowardice.
"No?" Andrew asks. "You're just going straight to Riko, then?"
There's alcohol on Kevin's breath, standing even a step away from him. If he were a dragon right now, the stench would probably be enough to make him sneeze.
"No," Kevin almost growls, sounding more creature than human. "I won't go back to hunting. Besides, there's no point crawling back to the losing side."
Andrew's grin is slow and vicious.
"Glad you've come to your senses," he says.
He's slowly seen Kevin's resolve crumble to head back to Riko — no longer disillusioned by the hunts, or by what, exactly, Riko is doing; hunting simply for pleasure and for power. He'd known, to some extent, Kevin wouldn't be able to cope going back and hunting the way that Riko does, but until he found something else to hold onto here in the sanctuary, Andrew knew he'd never quite break his connection to Riko and the hunters.
But now here he is, declaring he's going to face Riko, and his tether is to the sanctuary.
"I owe it to Jean, anyway," Kevin admits.
"Owe what, exactly?"
"To help get Nathaniel out," Kevin replies.
Andrew raises his eyebrows. He's been purposefully elusive about what it is, exactly, he plans to do during the confrontation. Neil is his most important concern — which does include dealing with Riko, but he hardly needs to spare a thought to coming up close and personal with him. Riko will be easy enough to deal with, he's sure, when all of his allies are destroyed and all his weaponry won't be enough to protect him.
It's not Kevin's concern, and Andrew won't let him be anywhere close enough to Riko for any more damage to be caused, but if it's something for Kevin to hold onto, then he's not going to rip it away.
"Neil," is all Andrew decides to bother saying.
Kevin studies him, gaze a little too perceptive, but he finally nods. "Neil."
Two nights later, Andrew recites their approaching plan — and more importantly, Kevin's development — to Neil. His smile becomes a match of Andrew's own that had crossed his face when Kevin finally announced he wasn't going to go back.
Andrew kisses him, and kisses him, until one — or both — of them doesn't have the strength to stand. Neil's sitting in the dirt, and Andrew crouches over him, knees on either side of his hips. Neil's hands haven't wandered a single inch beyond the point that Andrew allows, and he's never once assumed that Andrew's tolerance from the last meeting applies to the next.
Neil's hands are on his shoulders, his fingers twisting through Andrew's hair, and Andrew's own hands are sliding over Neil's chest. One hand traces lower, to the hem of his shirt, but the second that his fingers slip under and touch skin, Neil makes a noise.
Andrew's catalogued a lot of Neil's noises.
This is a new one, and it's not like any of the others.
He pulls back, and at the same moment he gets Neil's face in his view, he presses his fingers down a little more firmly. And he watches as Neil isn't quick enough to hide his grimace, eyes opening as he looks at Andrew, guarded.
He doesn't bother asking for an explanation. He lifts Neil's shirt, no longer for the same reasons that he's done it the past couple of meetings. Now, he's entirely emotionless as he sees the angry bruises on Neil's stomach and ribs.
"Neil," he warns, eyes flicking back up.
Not emotionless any more. His words are tinged with anger, some of it directed right at Neil.
Neil exhales, gaze drifting out past Andrew's shoulder. Andrew drags it right back, pinching Neil's chin in his fingers, turning his head back to look at every small flicker of emotion that Neil tries to smother.
"He was pissed off about the last hunt being ruined," Neil explains. "And Kengo's— well, dying. Not a great mix for his lack of emotional regulation. But I'm fine."
Andrew presses in a little harder, and Neil winces, pulling back.
"Want to try that again?" Andrew provokes. He lightens up his touch slightly, just because he knows it's starting to err from uncomfortable to painful.
"Only a few more days," Neil says. "Andrew. I'm fine. Only a little longer now."
It's only because that's true that Andrew decides to let it go. For the most part. His fingers skim Neil's shirt, and he lifts it up further, studying the colourings of Neil's skin. There are more bruises, tracing all the way up. Most of them are made from boots, he knows, but the ones near Neil's shoulders are made from fingers. Fresh bruises have blossomed right over the scars made from Lola, which Andrew traces with a light touch.
There won't be any more, he tells himself. Just a few more days.
Neil lifts his hands, getting them in Andrew's line of sight, and there's a clear question as he keeps them from Andrew's skin. Andrew grabs his wrists and settles his hands on the sides of his ribs, where Neil curls his fingers and settles. He puts more of his weight down into Neil's lap, leaning back so he can study Neil's expression.
He is very clearly not concerned about the bruises on his skin. He is making it almost embarrassingly clear that his only concern is with Andrew.
"You're unbelievable," Andrew tells him.
Neil hums, and Andrew's not sure if he's taken it as the dry, borderline insult it's meant to be, or if he's looked underneath the layers and found something else. He is annoyingly good at doing that.
Neil leans in, but lets Andrew close the distance between their lips. Andrew doesn't forget about the bruises, but it settles in the back of his mind as he kisses Neil.
Soon enough, it won't be by a stream, meet-ups snatched in the night. Soon enough, Neil will actually be in the sanctuary, behind their boundaries, in Andrew's territory.
And there will not be, thankfully, dirt. Andrew is so sick of dirt in his clothes and on his skin. It's much easier to deal with as a dragon.
They kiss until it gets too late into the night, and then for a little longer. Andrew wants to push him down further, but they're out of time, and he separates from Neil with one last hard press of his lips. Then another, when he sees the expression Neil has on his face.
He gets to his feet, locking his knees as he stands. Neil is a little slower to recover, taking a few moments longer in the dirt, staring up at Andrew.
"When the fighting starts," Andrew reminds him, once he's finally back on his feet, "you get behind me."
Neil smiles, soft and small. "Right."
Something in Andrew's stomach twists.
"Neil," he says.
"Andrew," Neil says, matching his tone, but he only holds it for a moment before he rolls back his shoulders and seems to finally come back to his senses. "Just... Thank you."
He hesitates, though. Like there's something else he's thinking about saying. But he swallows it down, shakes his head, and puts his bag on his shoulder.
Andrew should press. He wants to press.
But Neil gives him a salute, turns on his heels, and is gone.
In the end, Riko and his hunters are exactly where they planned.
But Neil—
Neil is not.
Andrew uses every sense that he can, and he scouts and circles the sky, but he can tell that Neil isn't part of this battlefield.
Archers take fire at him, and he swoops low, taking out a few with his claws. Starting a fire is risky, and they knew going into this fight that they wouldn't be able to rely on it — it hardly matters, though. They have more than enough fighters, enough shifters, to level the fight.
His target is Riko, but someone is already there, grappling with him.
Kevin. Fucking Kevin. Andrew should have flown his stupid ass to Rhemann's and gone without him — the plan was to wait until Andrew was back down from scouting, right by Kevin's side, to act as a defensive and offensive wall. But Kevin's gone straight for Riko with no protection, other than their own fighters keeping the rest of the hunters from firing on him.
Idiot. Fucking idiot.
Riko takes a swing, right at Kevin's bad arm, but Kevin catches the blow and redirects it. He spots Andrew, now, and his eyes go wide as he realises he's alone. Riko takes the chance to try and swing again, but this time Andrew swoops in, using his wing to try and bat away Riko's weapon.
Riko is, annoyingly, fast. He dodges them both, then gets some space. He's positioned himself right in a place where Andrew can't fire without setting too many things alight, though Andrew needs answers before he turns Riko into a charred piece of meat.
"Where is Nathaniel?" Kevin grits out, thankfully knowing what it means that Andrew is alone.
"Oh?" Riko laughs, though it's strained. "I knew he was meeting with someone. I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to run to you, though."
Kevin's eyes don't give him away. He doesn't look in Andrew's direction. But something must give in his expression, or perhaps Riko knows him too well, as his head tilts as he reevaluates his thoughts.
"It wasn't you," Riko realises. He laughs again, this time turning on Andrew. "Oh. You, was it? How ironic."
"Riko," Kevin says sharply. "Where is he?"
And then, in turn, Kevin understands Riko's expression without a single thing being said. His eyes go wide, and he shakes his head in disbelief as he takes a step back.
"You didn't," Kevin breathes out, his horror clear.
And Andrew knows, immediately, what that means.
He doesn't have time to shift. He steps next to Kevin, which makes Riko sneer and step back to get some distance. Andrew forcefully shoves at Kevin, snapping him out of it. Kevin's head snaps to him, staring at him with wide eyes.
Where. Kevin, where, where, where?
Kevin jolts. He whirls back around on Riko.
"Where is he?" Kevin demands.
Riko laughs, though it's entirely ice. He is certainly not happy about Kevin's focus being on Neil rather than himself. He goads without answering, trying to push at Kevin as he speaks. "I'll be honest, his father was very happy to be called. He was even happier when I gave him permission to go as far as he wanted — I don't need Nathaniel anymore, after all."
He's past the point of spiralling, Andrew figures. Riko's simply become disillusioned, too far gone. Kevin seems to realise it, as he makes a wounded noise, but fights through his emotions to speak.
"Riko. Where is he?"
Riko's smile becomes even colder. Andrew doesn't bother wasting any more time. He launches forward, and though Riko raises shield and sword, Andrew moves too quickly. He tackles Riko down, putting all of his weight behind it, and Riko roars as Andrew pins down the arm with the shield. Pins, then pushes, and pushes, until something snaps.
Riko howls, then. His sword swings up, and Andrew moves swiftly out of the way. Riko is back on his feet all too quickly, gaze now entirely focused on Andrew. And Andrew can see the exact moment that Riko realises sending Andrew out of this fight, into the Butcher's sights, is going to be his best chance.
"I believe his father dragged him back to the very house he was born in," Riko sneers.
"Andrew-" Kevin starts, but Andrew already knows almost, exactly, where that is — Neil let it slip, once, in a passing statement. By how quickly he'd try to glaze past it, Andrew knows his dislike of 'home' is all real. Enough for him to trust that he won't be wasting time following a lie. Kevin can tell that Andrew knows enough, as he presses his lips together and doesn't bother trying to finish his explanation.
"You'll be too late," Riko says. He goes to swing again for Andrew, moving quickly in the opportunity of pause, but Kevin is already there, meeting his blow. Andrew shoves Riko back, and then Renee bursts through the trees and goes straight for Riko. He's still fast and slippery, as he manages to redirect the snapping of her teeth. He fights through the break in his arm, striking her in the side with his shield, sending her skidding back.
She's on her feet, lips pulled back and so very vengeful. Andrew wonders just how much Jean disclosed to her to make her so angry on his behalf. Wymack steps beside her, the only thing holding her back, a hand on her flank. His presence is enough to disrupt the chaos of the fight for just long enough.
"Andrew," Kevin says, looking right at him, taking his eyes off Riko. "Go. You need to go."
Kevin's doing something stupid again. Andrew should be here.
But hunters are going down by the second, Riko's soldiers and combatants failing. And Kevin is protected, here. By Wymack, by Renee, by everyone else in the sanctuary. Riko will die, Andrew knows, even if not by his own hand.
He meets eyes with Wymack for a second, but it's enough to remind him he is wasting time. He runs, gaining momentum, and is up in the sky before Riko can even take aim at him.
It would be a while to go on foot — almost a couple of days if someone were walking. And that's when Andrew realises that in their last meeting, Neil had known. He'd gone right back to Riko, knowing his father had been called, knowing he was on borrowed time.
Thank you, Neil's voice echoes in his head.
Andrew wanted him to promise that he'd get behind him when the fighting started. But Neil had known he wouldn't be there when everything finally crumbled around Riko.
He cuts the time by flying, covering hundreds of steps with a single flap of his wings, but it still doesn't feel fast enough.
You'll be too late.
Fury is white-hot and burning in his veins. Neil had gone back to face the one thing, the one person, that terrifies him — and hadn't asked Andrew for help, still not wanting to put him at risk.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He lets the anger fuel him, pushing him further and faster. Trees, streams, and the land around and below him pass in a blur. Birds take to the skies when his wings disturb the winds, but Andrew leaves them behind in a blink. He's keeping track of the scents around him, just in case Nathan never made it so far with Nathaniel in tow, but he's not able to pick up on much. There aren't many traces of other creatures or shifters out here, either, like he would usually expect — like Nathan's presence has been enough to drive them out, to seek safety and hide.
It means he's getting closer, though.
He flies, and flies, until finally— he catches the scent he's followed many times before. He follows it, lets it lead him to a desolate, run-down town. No humans have lived here for years, though the scent of creatures and animals, which usually come to fill the spaces left behind, doesn't coat this area. Like they're too scared to encroach these lands, like they've always known something is going to come back.
Andrew focuses on the scent of Neil to lead him, but there is also the sharp scent of blood. Fire, too, with something more sour than wood and flora that's been set alight.
He comes to a house, a little further out from all the rest. Fences cover a large stretch of land, surrounding all sides of the house, and he can smell the death and decay buried in the fields, the blood seeping into the earth. Most of it is old, but there's the sharp scent of new blood and wounds spilling into the ground.
He would know, without even following Neil's scent, that this would be a land fitting for none other than the Butcher himself. This haunted house is undoubtedly his own, left standing only because no creatures have dared to come close to it and tempt the death that still haunts the lands it sits on.
But anyone on these lands is not in the house. When Andrew comes closer, he sees they are standing close to it, shadows extending like they're part of the frames of the house, but their feet are in the grass. Two figures are standing together, one a little further apart, facing them with rigid shoulders.
A fourth figure lies in the field. A woman, just as coated in blood, old and new as the earth she's dying on. She's a forgotten thought by the three remaining, who pay her no attention now.
Andrew's sharp eyes pick up that the three figures remaining are currently in a stand-off, locked in a stalemate. Even though they've likely known he's entering the fight, they are currently occupied with each other, none of them flinching or changing targets just yet.
He quickly finds Neil: he's one half of the two figures standing together, their backs to the house. He is a spitting image of his father. Nathan Wesninski currently has an arm holding Neil up and a blade pressed to his throat, long and wicked. Neil's bleeding, and Andrew realises that the scent of something burning is from his skin.
His stomach lurches, sickened, but he pushes it down. Neil will only get hurt worse if he loses focus now.
Neil meets his eyes, and they go wide. If Andrew could listen to it from this distance, over all the other scents he's currently taking in, he's sure he'd be able to hear Neil's heart, pounding as fast as it ever has. He shakes his head as minutely as he can, like he can do anything at all to make Andrew turn back now.
Why didn't you run, little rabbit, Andrew thinks, tinged with anger that's still burning so brightly. He doesn't think it'll ever stop.
Nathan is using Neil as a shield against the third man, currently standing facing them, weapon drawn but unable to fire. He's not willing to risk Neil, then. Andrew's just going to have to take the chance that this third man will understand that he, too, isn't willing to take that risk — but something in this stalemate needs to break.
Nathan's eyes lock onto his, the first to give ground in the stand-off, but he still has the blade to Neil's throat and the advantage of that. He presses it in a little further, streams of red trickling from Neil's neck as he strains to keep it away from his skin.
Andrew draws closer. He can't risk Neil, but he can move fast enough. He knows he can. Nathan is just a man. A monster of one, but he is a man. Breakable, beatable.
He has to be — there are no other alternatives. Andrew will win this fight. He won't risk anything else.
The other man doesn't change targets, but he adjusts his stance slightly, waiting. Waiting for Andrew to give him an opportunity.
The house prevents Andrew from sweeping from behind, but he comes in from the side.
And in a blink, Nathan moves. His other arm, holding Neil up around his chest, drops to his side. Suddenly, he is armed with another weapon — sharp-tipped, and in the Butcher's hands, undoubtedly deadly. He aims, Andrew in his sights within a split-second.
But if he strikes, Andrew will have enough momentum to keep going forward. He'll take out Nathan, at least. Provide enough of a distraction, an opportunity, that the other man needs to finish this fight.
Neil isn't going to let it happen, though. Always one to ruin Andrew's plans. Never one to accept that Andrew is going to be in the line of fire. Even bloody, dazed, clearly wrought with pain, he moves just as fast as ever. His arms come up to wrestle the blade away from his throat as his legs kick back, smashing into his father's kneecaps.
Nathan still fires. Neil's sharp and panicked "No!" echoes in Andrew's ears.
But Neil's done enough to disrupt Nathan's aim. Instead of the true strike it would have been, piercing a vital point, it strikes the joint of his wing. Almost right where the breakage had been, where the part of his wing had been tender and weakened after being shot out of the sky.
But Andrew doesn't tumble down this time.
Neil goes down with Nathan, both of them wrestling each other to try and get the blade. The other man doesn't — can't — take the shot.
The blade slips further out of reach. Neil, on his hands and knees, stretches out and tries to get his fingers to grasp for it. Nathan rolls off his back, and Andrew sees the glimpse of another sharp metal slipping into his fingers, right as he reaches out for Neil.
Andrew runs forward, using his wings to give him the extra distance and speed he needs, and tackles Neil down into the ground, folding his wings around them as they roll and skid in the grass.
A weapon fires. Andrew's heart skips a beat as he thinks, for a moment, that Nathan has pulled out yet another weapon.
There's the smell of blood. More of it seeping into the earth.
In his hold, Neil breathes. His heart beats, just as fast as Andrew has ever felt.
But he's alive.
Footsteps come towards them. Andrew unfurls his wings, but moves quickly, standing in front of Neil before he can even think. Before Neil can move.
The third man is the one standing.
Nathan lies in the grass, face pressed down into the dirt, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes are open, staring right at Andrew, with that same bright blue that he's memorised.
The other man regards Andrew, then slowly lowers his weapon to the ground.
"Nathaniel?" The man asks, eyes trying to flick past Andrew, but he doesn't let Neil be seen just yet. Not until he can be sure.
He's got a strange accent. Not one Andrew's familiar with. Not the same as the Moriyamas, but it doesn't mean he is any less dangerous right now just because of that.
"Andrew," Neil's voice says, weak and raspy. "It's alright. He won't hurt me."
He can sense that Neil is trying to move. It's the only reason he turns and moves back to Neil's side.
He can take in more of the damage, now. The side of Neil's face is burned, right over Riko's branding, and it's still so fresh that the wound is leaking. He's covered with more cuts and slices — some on his face, his neck where the blade had pressed in, and plenty of other places. There's a deep wound in his leg, freely bleeding, and Andrew realises he'd been a moment too slow when he reached Neil. Nathan got in one last swipe, slicing right through Neil's leg, almost from knee to ankle.
Nowhere fatal, at least, as long as they tend to it now. The other man is moving towards them, but the moment Andrew tenses up, Neil reaches out and puts a hand on his leg. But he addresses the other man as he speaks.
"Uncle Stuart," he says, words tinged slightly with disbelief — like the shock from everything still hasn't set in. Andrew watches as his eyes track over to his father, lying in the grass.
"Christ, Nathaniel," Stuart says, getting to his knees as he looks over Neil. Andrew doesn't move much, but Neil doesn't seem to want him to, fingers pressing in slightly when Andrew shifts the slightest amount.
Stuart does not look at all like Nathan. But there's something of him in Neil, the shape of his jaw, the turn of his lips in a frown, where Andrew knows Neil has taken after his mother instead.
"He's dead," Neil says, voice losing that shock, dipping into something flat. And then his lips rise, and he starts to laugh, sharp and manic.
Stuart gives him a particular look, but doesn't address it. He strips the bottom of his shirt and uses it to blot at the wound on Neil's leg, then uses another to wrap around it to try to put pressure on it.
"Mary?" Stuart asks, when Neil's laughter starts to turn to panicked hitches.
Neil's able to process the question, but his face goes blank again as he shakes his head. Stuart's face darkens, but he nods in acceptance. A hand brushes back Neil's hair, then clamps down on his shoulder. He looks over at Andrew, studying him in turn.
"A dragon," Stuart says, almost exasperated. Andrew's tail swipes back and forth in the grass, irritated and on edge. He looks between Neil and Andrew, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. He glances back at Nathan, then at the woman lying in the grass — Lola, if Andrew were to guess. "Both of you are going to need medical."
"In the house," Neil grits out. "There are bandages."
"Alright," Stuart says, looking Neil over for a moment before he pieces together that Neil's not actually willing to go into the house himself. He gets to his feet. "I'll get what's in there, patch you up as best as I can."
It's unspoken: they're going to have to get the medical attention they actually need elsewhere. Andrew stretches out his wings, testing them. Nathan's strike hurts, but it's not unbearable. He can get Neil back with this.
As he does this, Neil notices the wound. He beckons Andrew closer, but doesn't actually reach for him until Andrew takes a step.
He's still so angry. But Neil's breathing, alive, and he wouldn't be able to keep away even if he tried.
"I'm sorry," Neil says quietly, as his hands run close to the wound, carefully looking it over.
Andrew snaps at him then, baring teeth. Neil awaits judgment, guilt-riddled and regrets painted so clearly on his features, and Andrew thinks his life would truly, really, be so much easier without this stupid, bleeding, beautiful boy in his life.
But Neil's still bleeding, face marred and burned, and Andrew can't do anything to hurt him. He knows it, and he hates it.
Neil's hands drop from the wound, settling back into his lap. Stuart comes back out, a bag in hand that he puts down on the ground. He pulls out some alcohol, offers it to Neil, who takes a couple of swigs before passing it back so Stuart can clean the wound. Andrew grits his teeth together as Neil lets out a strained breath as Stuart starts bandaging the wounds that he can, stitching together some of the cuts that need the help.
During this process, he explains his visit: after the news of Kengo dying, he'd hoped to deal with Nathan, wanting to strike a deal with Ichirou for his own benefit. It'd been luck, nothing more, that had him cross paths with Nathan and Lola dragging Neil along. As he finishes, he tapes a bandage over Neil's face with a sympathetic grimace.
"You're going to have to get that properly looked at," Stuart warns.
Neil nods, looking distant enough that he's probably not registering it. Stuart recognises it too, as he looks at Andrew, who gives an acknowledging tilt of his head.
Stuart looks Neil over one more time, then sighs. He puts the remaining bandages away, then the rest of the alcohol, and passes the bag over. Neil's hands are bloody, sliced up, so Andrew ends up taking it between his teeth. Neil looks a little more present at the motion, like he's about to argue, but Stuart gets back to his feet and it puts a halt to any of Neil's arguments.
"Thank you," Neil says.
Stuart gives him a small smile. "Listen to me, Nathaniel. With the Moriyamas' best dragon hunter gone, and you in the wind, they're going to have to weigh up the costs of trying to track down the last of the dragons. I have a feeling they won't bother. Do you understand? Keep your head low, and you're out of sight. Both of you."
Neil blinks.
And then, slowly, he smiles.
"I understand."
It's an effort to have Neil on his back, especially as Andrew's a little worried he's going to pass out at some point from all the blood loss, but Andrew manages to track down some rope in the Butcher's house.
Neil's resistant at first, and Andrew's a little sickened himself to have a rope around his neck, but it's the best compromise they can have for giving Neil something to hold onto as Andrew flies. Andrew can quell the feeling of something around his neck for the feeling of Neil's heartbeat. Stuart and Andrew both combine their efforts to get Neil to accept that this is just, simply, the best and fastest method to get them to safety.
He doesn't fly as fast as he did to get to Neil; he doesn't have the energy, but he doesn't think Neil has the strength for that kind of speed either. Which means it takes longer — and there's more distance, too, getting back to the sanctuary rather than back to the battlefield they'd confronted Riko with.
But Neil holds on, and his breaths are strained but there, his heart beat starting to slow now as the adrenaline and the fear start to settle. It gets too slow, right as he crosses the last border, right as he finally lands, but he's still breathing. Andrew, tired and strained thin, almost bares his teeth as people begin to surround him.
"Andrew," Abby says, voice kind and patient. "Let me look at him."
Wymack comes out too, and when Andrew locks eyes with him, it's the only reason he lets anyone approach. They are, at least, smart enough to only have those who need to help Neil get down — Abby and Wymack, then Kevin, too. He's pale-faced and injured, but he's okay, and he's careful as he helps Neil get down from Andrew.
Neil makes a garbled noise that might be an attempt at Kevin's name, but Kevin slips into a language with a sharp warning that even Andrew can understand the intention of, and Neil falls quiet. He's barely hanging onto consciousness now, not at all resisting as he's handled. Andrew goes with them, refusing to go further than a step away from Neil. Aaron slides into the room, taking over looking over Andrew's injury as Abby busies herself with looking over Neil's.
Neil stirs a little more as his face is touched, the burn still tender and weeping. The lack of the number and the loss of the branding on his cheek doesn't make him any less recognisable — it seems everyone in the sanctuary knows exactly who he is already.
"You're so stupid," Aaron tells him, voice low and frustrated. Andrew thinks of when he’d come back to the sanctuary, after his first ever run in with Neil, the way Aaron had been stressed then, too. "All this for a hunter. For that one, of all of them."
Andrew doesn't bother with the argument — Aaron should already know better. He does. He's just insufferable, sometimes, with his way of showing concern.
Abby cleans Neil up as best as she can, then comes over to check on Andrew as well. She inspects the wound, then hums, satisfied.
"You got lucky," she says, with clear relief. Luck — a strange concept to him. But he thinks he can believe in the irony of it. "You've overexerted it with the flying, so no more of that for a couple of weeks, alright?"
He doesn't resist. Neil won't be up and walking for a while yet, and with Riko dealt with, with Nathan dealt with, Andrew isn't going to have to try and step in front of Kevin or Neil for the next few days. At least. Until they find some inevitable trouble.
But for now, the worst of it is over.
Wymack's disappeared for a little while, but he comes back in right as Abby's doing her last inspections, placing a bag down in the corner. He catches Andrew's eyes, and while neither of them acknowledges it, Andrew knows what's in the bag.
Neil's left to rest, and no one tries to get Andrew to leave. He settles into the corner, ready to take watch as Neil's even, deep breaths fill the room.
But when he looks over, he sees that Neil is fighting to hang onto consciousness. His blue eyes focus on Andrew, surprisingly clear.
Then, with slow, clumsy fingers, he beckons for Andrew to come closer. Andrew resists for a moment, at war with himself, but Neil waits patiently. Andrew goes, stopping just short of the bed and out of Neil's reach.
"Can you shift?" Neil carefully asks, eyes lingering on the wound his father left.
There are no breaks, though, to be mindful of. Abby hasn't barred him from shifting, either.
He knows Neil wouldn't hold it against him if he didn't shift. He's not asking with the expectation for Andrew to shift for him. And Andrew considers, heavily, staying right here as he is — dangerous, ready for a fight.
He considers, considers, considers. Then, annoyed — at Neil, at himself — he heads over for the bag that Wymack left in the corner. He is then annoyed at Wymack, who had the foresight to even get clothes together for him and was stupidly optimistic enough to think Andrew might need them. He shifts, standing bare for only a few moments before he changes. When he turns around, he sees that Neil has looked away, gaze locked on the other side of the room so that Andrew isn't in his line of sight.
He walks over to the bed. He doesn't say anything, but Neil seems to know he's being given permission to look, as his head turns. Then, slowly, he pushes himself up so that he's sitting. Andrew wants to swat him upside the head for that, but he's pretty sure Neil's brain can't take any further damage today.
Neil, once more, reaches out for him. Andrew goes, sitting on the edge of the bed, just out of reach of Neil's fingers.
Neil studies where the injury has migrated on his human form, right near his shoulders, then when he's satisfied the wound isn't bleeding or doing anything drastic, he looks back up at Andrew's face. In turn, Andrew studies the white bandages on his skin, overlaying all the wounds he knows are there in his mind, wondering how well they will heal.
"Thank you for saving me," he says, and before Andrew can decide to go through with throttling him anyway, haunted by the memory of their last meeting by the stream, Neil's voice picks up in pitch and speed as he speaks. "I know— I know I wasn't fair. I didn't think it would happen, not like this, but... somehow, Riko's gone, and my father's dead. I understand that our deal is off, now. And I—" His words choke off, and he shakes his head. "If you tell me to leave, then I'll go."
"You aren't going anywhere," Andrew says, surprising himself and Neil by speaking, the words slipping out before he can even think about them.
But it's the truth — if Neil is leaving this decision to him, then this is his answer.
Neil's quiet, stunned for a few moments as he processes this. His heart rate, slowly, starts to regain a normal rhythm again. But there's still something there, an edge of anxiety, that doesn't soothe over.
"Is it okay if...?" Neil asks, hands stretching again, waiting. He leans forward, intentions clear, the rest unspoken.
Andrew leans forward, closing the distance, and kisses him.
Neil's heart calms, and the anxiety leaves. Not a trace to be found.
It has to be gentle as the wounds don't allow for anything else, but Neil still presses a little harder than he probably should. When he pulls back, though, he's all soft and pleased, not a trace of strain in his features.
"I'm glad," he says quietly, almost to himself.
Andrew decides he's had enough of surprises and annoyances for today. He pushes at Neil's shoulder until he lies down again.
"Will you stay?" Neil asks, voice still just as quiet.
Andrew looks over to the corner, where he planned to settle in for the rest of the night, keeping watch.
He nudges at Neil's side, gentle again, mindful of injuries. Neil happily squirms right over, giving Andrew more space on the bed. When Andrew lies down, they don't touch, but they're close enough for their breaths to intermingle.
They don't speak. There will be time for that, anyway. Just as there will be time to figure out how Neil fits in to the sanctuary, how he fits with Andrew, how they fit together without the fear of Riko or Nathan over their heads.
For now, Andrew watches as Neil is slowly, steadily pulled under.
And, reaching out with his fingers, until their pinkies are intertwined, with Neil's breaths and his warmth right beside him, safe, he sleeps.