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“Hey, look,” says Matt, effectively blocking Neil from actually looking with his arm as he points. “It’s your favourite customer.”
Neil’s a bit preoccupied scooping out some bright blue bubblegum ice cream for a little girl who can barely reach the counter, and doesn't glance up until he’s done. Matt, who is probably the best friend Neil’s ever had, also talks with a healthy amount of sarcasm, so it takes a moment for Neil to figure out if he’s being serious. Or if he even knows, since it’s hard to tell the difference between the twins on the best of days.
Over time, Neil’s been able to notice little things that help. Andrew’s broader, more muscular in the shoulders, but that’s not really dependable if they’re not standing right next to each other. Things like hairstyles and expressions (Aaron never seems to quite capture Andrew’s blankness) aren't definitive, nor is their tendency to wear a lot of black. Neil usually has to either look for Katelyn (the only reason why he passed chemistry last year) hanging off of Aaron’s arm or wait until their order. Either way, Matt always manages to disappear to the back, leaving Neil to deal with them alone.
“Two scoops, chocolate-dipped waffle cone,” the twin says.
Andrew, Neil realizes, hiding a smile as he turns to grab a cone.
“Let me guess, both mint chip?” He asks anyways, because trying to get under either of the twins’ skin is always a delight.
A tiny frown appears in the crease between Andrew’s eyebrows, before he figures out that Neil’s just kidding.
“Your comedic talent leaves a lot to be desired. Turtle cashew cluster and caramel swirl brownie explosion.”
Neil shoots him a grin before grabbing a scoop out of the hot water bucket and moving towards the Turtle cashew cluster. It never fails to amuse him how Andrew can order Palmetto Creamery’s most cavity-inducing flavours with a completely straight face.
“Is that all?”
The corner of Andrew’s mouth twitches. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, and he looks almost outlandish in all black and combat boots against the bright colours of the creamery.
“Yeah,” he finally says.
Neil hands him the cone before going to ring him up. As always, Andrew passes over a crumpled ten. All of the change is dropped into the tip jar and Neil figures that the exorbitantly high tip percent is probably why Matt always calls Andrew his favourite. He smiles at Andrew, because being able to pay the bills is always nice.
“Thanks,” he calls out as Andrew turns to leave. He thinks maybe Andrew should be a bit more careful with his sunscreen, since the back of his neck is practically glowing red.
Neil’s busy dealing with Aaron’s ice cream (pistachio, gross) when Andrew walks into the creamery. For a moment, all the twins do is stare at each other, which actually looks rather comical, before Andrew crosses his arms and viciously demands, “What is she doing here?”
Katelyn, Neil notices, has gone rather pale.
An ugly sneer works its way onto Aaron’s face as he pulls Katelyn close. Neil tries to make eye contact with Dan at the waffle cone machine, in the hope that she’ll intervene if a fight breaks out.
“Oh,” says Aaron. “Like it’s not completely obvious what you’re doing?”
Desperately, Neil finishes with the ice cream.
“Strawberry, right?” He asks Katelyn, who is watching Andrew nervously. She nods, but Neil’s pretty sure she’s lost her appetite. He scoops out her ice cream in record time before stabbing in a small plastic spoon and passing it over the counter.
The twins seem to have ended their stare-down by the time Neil’s done, though the animosity between them is still almost tangible. He quickly rings up Aaron and Katelyn and prays that they won't decide to stay at one of the creamery’s small tables. Katelyn offers him a shaky smile as he hands her the change, and he tries to give her one back. He still owes her for hours of patient tutoring, and puts forth a bit more effort into being nice to her than he would with anyone else.
Andrew still looks furious by the time he arrives at the register, which is new for him. Neil is impressed by how aggressively he eats his ice cream as soon as Neil hands it to him, but refuses to be cowed by Andrew’s little temper tantrum.
“Palmetto would appreciate it if you don't nearly start familial brawls on our premises,” he tells Andrew, counting out the coins.
Already done with the first scoop and taking huge bites out of the cone, Andrew fixes him with a sour glare. “Children should be seen and not heard.”
A grin stretches its way across Neil’s face. “Says the man who’s five-foot-flat and eating the ice cream that everyone over twelve complains is too sweet.”
Andrew scowls fiercely, biting into his ice cream and giving Neil sympathy shivers for his poor gums.
“Oh Neil,” he sighs, “Don’t you know that the customer is always right?”
Neil frowns, because that particular epigram was created entirely to give servers like him hell.
“That’s a flawed ideology,” he manages.
“Mmm,” Andrew agrees. “But a semester in your psychology class has shown me that you’re used to being wrong.” Dropping his change into the tip jar, Andrew raises his hand to give Neil a smug two-fingered salute as he exits the creamery.
“Get out of the way.”
Neil turns away from where he’s distracted by a pint of ice cream (vodka key lime pie, probably the only flavour his boss’ asshole of a son won’t turn his nose up at, he thinks), only to find himself approximately eye level with Andrew Minyard’s crotch.
“Huh?”
“Move,” Andrew says, using the toe of his boot to nudge Neil out of his crouch and away from the freezer.
“Don’t you get enough ice cream?”
Andrew shrugs as he pulls out a few pints that look obnoxiously sugary, hesitating for a moment before also grabbing a plainer cookie dough. “Palmetto’s expensive.”
As he picks up his basket, Neil acknowledges that yeah, it’s kind of weird that Andrew is willing to drop so much on ice cream every week. Including his tips.
“So you spend extra money buying both our ice cream and store bought?” Neil asks, mystified.
Andrew hums noncommittally. His face is flushed from the warm pre-autumn air outside of the freezer section. He looks at Neil consideringly, before finally saying, “You look like you like vanilla. Boring things.”
Neil blinks. He feels lost and just a little bit stupid as Andrew stares at him, trying not to fidget too much under his judging gaze. He isn’t sure whether he had just been insulted, but says, “I guess?” anyways.
“Predictable,” Andrew mutters, turning to leave the aisle. When Neil doesn’t move, he snaps, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”
It takes a moment for Neil to realize that Andrew’s still talking to him. Confused, he follows him all the way to the checkout (where he pays for his own assortment of apples, granola bars, microwave meals, and milk) then to Andrew’s car, which is obnoxiously shiny and sporty and part of the reason why Neil had never really thought too hard about Andrew’s spending habits.
“You don’t drive,” Andrew states more than asks, pulling out his keys.
“I can. I just don’t have a car.” Usually Matt’s thrilled to chauffeur him around, so it doesn’t really matter. Neil’s fine with walking otherwise.
“I can give you a ride.”
Neil squints at Andrew suspiciously. As far as he knows, the extent of their interactions has been Neil serving Andrew ice cream and that one disaster of a partner project. “You don't have to.”
Andrew looks at him impatiently. “I’m not offering it for free . I got cookie dough ice cream. You eat the plain parts for me, and I’ll drive you home.”
“What’s the point of buying ice cream then?”
Sighing, as if Neil is the biggest idiot in the world, Andrew tells him, “Haagen-dazs cookie dough is worth it. Do we have a deal?”
Neil’s almost tempted to say no, to go home and turn on a game or eat an actual dinner. Then he remembers the growing stack of homework in his and Matt’s apartment, and that makes up his mind. “Yeah, sure.”
The drive to Andrew’s house is quiet, because neither Andrew nor Neil are any good at small talk. Once he's done texting his mom, Neil keeps noticing Andrew looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and busies himself with gazing out of the window. He feels charitable enough to help Andrew pull his bags out of the trunk, and belatedly remembers that he also has groceries that need to be chilled until he leaves.
“Your house is big,” Neil observes, only because he had gotten used to cramped apartments and cheap rentals.
Andrew shrugs, gesturing for Neil to dump the bags onto the counter and only bothering to put away the other pints of ice cream. “I live with my cousins and our roommate. It isn't big enough.”
He pulls out two spoons from a drawer and breaks the seal on the cookie dough. For a moment Andrew pauses, spoon hovering over the pint, before scooping out some plain vanilla and unburying a chunk of dough underneath.
“Here,” he says, offering the spoon to Neil.
“Thanks.” Neil reaches out to take it, but Andrew must have something else in mind because he shoves it roughly in the direction of Neil’s mouth. It makes him go cross-eyed, and Neil only hesitates for a moment (what are the odds that this is a poisoning attempt?) before leaning in and taking the bite.
It’s sweet, which despite all of Matt’s attempts, is something Neil has never really gotten used to. He looks up to find Andrew staring at him, eyes focused on his mouth with a strange sort of intensity. Suddenly self-conscious, Neil licks his lips, wondering if there is something on them. The room seems to get warmer and he sees Andrew swallow heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he tears his eyes away from Neil to scoop a bite for himself.
This time when Andrew offers Neil some ice cream, he lets Neil take the spoon for himself.
Neil somehow finds himself getting used to sharing ice cream with Andrew. It’s no longer surprising to find Andrew waiting outside of his class with two spoons and a too-sweet pint of whichever flavour had caught his fancy. Andrew doesn't show up at Palmetto quite as often, but there’s something more companionable about sitting together on the hood of Andrew’s car and taking alternating bites of ice cream.
“Hey,” Neil says in delight when he sees Andrew standing outside the door to his calculus lecture, tub of ice cream held between fabric-covered hands. “You’re wearing glasses. It’s a good look.”
A couple students glance his way in alarm, as if Andrew, who has a bit of a volatile reputation, might attack him suddenly. Neil finds the idea absurd. These past few weeks have convinced him that Andrew is nothing more than bickering arguments and a horrible sweet tooth.
Andrew glares, but something about him seems vaguely pleased. He turns and stalks swiftly towards the parking lot, not checking and trusting that Neil will follow him.
They climb up onto the hood of his car, both having to do embarrassing little hops that they mutually agree to never mention. A spoon is passed Neil’s way and Andrew cracks open the ice cream, this time a chocolaty KitKat mixture that looks like something Matt would enjoy more. Feeling particularly instigative, Neil reaches out and grabs a biteful of candy, wincing at the amount of sugar and weird richness, but grinning victoriously in response to the sour look Andrew gives him.
“Problem?”
“Yeah,” Andrew tells him, drawing the ice cream closer to his body and guarding it possessively. He glares at Neil over the top bit of his frames. “You.”
Neil huffs in laughter. He shoves his spoon into his mouth so he can lean back without scratching the shiny paint of Andrew’s car and watches Andrew dig through the tub for something good. Andrew looks up to study him, and Neil is distracted by the way sunlight bounces off his hair and the way his jawline looks softer in the brightness.
“I like this,” he admits. “It’s nice.”
Andrew slowly brings the tub back to the middle, but Neil doesn't reach for more. He looks up at the clouds lazily drifting by and thinks about how impossible this life seemed a few years ago.
The cold press of the ice cream tub against Neil’s cheek jolts him out of his thoughts and he nearly falls off the car.
“I can hear you thinking from here. Stop it before you hurt yourself,” Andrew tells him.
“You’re the worst,” Neil complains, but he finds himself readjusting so he’s sitting closer to Andrew. He goes in for a scoop of ice cream, plain this time, and lets Andrew reach out to swipe off a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.
Andrew’s lips are cold, Neil thinks. They’re also sweet and a little sticky and taste vaguely like the s’mores swirl ice cream they had been sharing, which should be gross but for some reason is negligible when Andrew’s fingers are tangled in Neil’s hair and their mouths are pressed together.
He pulls away first because he’s feeling a little dizzy. Somehow, between Andrew’s hands on him and the intensity of his stare, the world steadies. Neil leans in to place a soft kiss right above his jaw.
“You like me.”
The fingers in Neil’s hair tighten for a moment before loosening.
“You’re an idiot,” Andrew tells him.
“But you like me. You want to kiss me.” A bubble of delight floats in Neil’s chest. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling, and becomes completely certain when Andrew’s hand moves to cover his mouth.
Andrew’s ears are red, colour splatters across his nose and cheeks. “Shut up.”
Tugging away Andrew’s hand, Neil leans in and says, “ Make me .”
Andrew rolls his eyes but kisses him again.
And keeps kissing him, until Neil can swear his lips feel swollen and the ice cream in his lap has entered that strange state between solid and liquid. At some point he must have dropped his spoon, because it’s collecting dirt from the carpet and if Kevin (coincidentally the asshole son of his boss) was in, he’d be throwing a fit. Neil ignores it, moves the pint off to the side, and is content to let Andrew lick into his mouth. Andrew guides his hands up onto his shoulders and that’s pretty nice, too.
Somehow they don’t hear the front door opening. If Neil was thinking straight he’d be furious with himself, but dazed and relaxed against Andrew, the threat doesn’t register.
“Oh my god,” says a voice.
Immediately Andrew tries to shove away, except they’d gotten a bit more tangled than he must have realized. Neil manages to get his arms underneath himself, elbows taking the brunt of the fall, and is winded when Andrew lands on top of him. The pint totters cheerfully before falling onto them, melted ice cream and all.
“Oh my god,” says the voice again, and Neil suddenly recognizes Nicky Hemmick, who was in his German class for a grand total of one month before Neil realized that he didn’t actually need to attend class in order to pass. “Andrew - Neil Josten - holy shit, is he ice cream boy?”
Andrew scrambles up. There’s a huge mess on his clothes, a furious blush on his face, and a bulge in his pants that Neil quickly looks away from. “Fuck off.”
Nicky doesn't move, but his eyes are darting between Andrew and Neil (still on the floor, he should really get up) rapidly. “He is ice cream boy. Fuck, Andrew, you managed to snag the boy of your dreams.”
“Shut up before I cut your tongue out,” says Andrew, brandishing one of the spoons. He looks strangely flustered, and Neil finds himself focusing on that oddity rather than what’s happening around him.
“Hey, hey, I surrender,” Nicky says, finally backing away with his arms raised. “But oh my god, does Neil know you’ve had the biggest crush on -”
He yelps when Andrew flings the spoon at him.
“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” Nicky flees out the door, calling out a loud, “Nice seeing you, Neil, don't forget to use a condom,” before it shuts behind him.
“Huh,” says Neil. His elbows hurt, he probably gained a nice set of new bruises, and gross, there’s melted ice cream dripping off his hair.
“Ignore everything Nicky just said,” Andrew tells him, reaching out to pull him up.
“Including the thing about the crush?”
Andrew nearly drops him again. He scowls but doesn't answer, looking uncharacteristically upset. Neil decides that he doesn't like it: the tense line of his shoulders, clenched fists, and the way he looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst.
“Hey, I’m just teasing. The kissing was really nice, and it’s kinda cute that you’re that interested in me.”
It’s impressive how red Andrew can get, Neil thinks. He moves so he’s standing close in front of Andrew, reaches out so he can retake hold of Andrew’s hand.
“You’re impossible,” Andrew grinds out. Almost angrily, he grabs at Neil’s collar and pulls him down, simultaneously surging up so their mouths crash together painfully.
Neil melts into the kiss. His knees feel like jelly and he finds himself leaning pliantly into Andrew. When Andrew stops, he makes a noise that sounds embarrassingly like a whine. Dipping forward so their foreheads are touching, Neil tries to steady his breaths and calm his stuttering heart.
Andrew huffs and glances down at Neil’s shirt. “You’re a mess. Should wash up. I’ll get you something to wear.”
Neil thinks that, surprisingly, he likes Andrew too.
“Can we kiss some more after?” He asks hopefully.
Andrew doesn't say anything, but squeezes Neil’s hand once before letting go.
Matt offers Neil a delighted wave as he steps into Palmetto, even if it’s a little confused. “Neil, bro, light of my life, you do know that you’re not on shift today, right?”
Neil’s about to respond when Andrew interrupts.
“He knows,” Andrew says simply, coming up behind Neil and hooking his fingers into the belt loop on Neil’s far side. His arm is warm against Neil’s back and the lilt of his voice is practically radiating smugness.
Eyes bugging out, Matt gapes at them from behind the counter. “What the shitfuck, is that Andrew Minyard?”
A nearby father glares over at Matt before leading his progeny away. Andrew tilts his head high and brings Neil in a little closer, something close to a smirk playing on his mouth.
“Yup,” Neil says. He’s feeling unbearably fond, of both Andrew and his best friend, and grins at Matt in the hopes of conveying that. “We’re here for my employee discount, though.”
As nice as it is, moving with Andrew’s arm around him is pretty difficult. Neil tugs Andrew’s hand free but doesn't relinquish it, instead letting their entwined fingers hang between them.
“Single scoop for me,” Neil decides, “And whatever diabetes cone Andrew wants today.”
Matt rushes to fill their order (espresso for Neil, cookies and cream, birthday cake, and some sort of chocolate-butterscotch-fudge monstrosity for Andrew) with an exuberance that impresses Neil. He nibbles at his ice cream when it’s handed to him and watches Andrew give his own a generous lick before biting into it, cone and all. Andrew passes his ice cream to Neil so he can fish out his wallet, but Matt stops him.
“It’s on me,” he says, giving a sly wink that looks ridiculous. “You paid for it in last week’s tips alone, and as Neil’s boyfriend you’re now obliged to spend the money treating him. He likes joining drop-in Exy games, the nerd.”
Neil’s pretty sure he’s blushing, and the falter in Andrew's movements as he puts back his wallet is the only sign that he’s also caught off guard.
“I intend to spend my money doing something more worthwhile,” Andrew tells Matt petulantly, but something in his tone sounds like he’s already making plans. He doesn't refute anything, though, and retakes Neil’s hand as soon as he has his ice cream back. Neil leans into him, just a little bit, and resists the urge to press a kiss to Andrew’s cheek. Waving bye to Matt, they make their way out of the creamery.
“You know,” Neil says once he’s thrown away their messy napkins and they’re buckled into Andrew’s car. “You never told Matt that you aren't my boyfriend. Which makes this my first-ever date.”
Andrew looks at him with a raised brow. “First?”
Neil shrugs, remembers years on the run and constant paranoia. He thinks about the way being around Andrew makes him feel comfortable and grounded, and thinks of the pleasant warmth holding his hand gives off. “And best.”
Dramatically, as if Neil is some sort of exasperating pest and he doesn't like him, as if he isn't the boy of his dreams , Andrew sighs.
“I suppose I’ll have to keep humouring you then, since your standards are so tragically low. Next time we’re getting fancy dessert platters.”
Huffing in laughter, Neil leans in and lands a quick kiss on the corner of Andrew’s mouth, over a little bit of residual cream.
“Can't wait,” he says, even though they are both perfectly aware that Andrew would be the one eating most of the dessert. “But about that drop-in Exy –”
“You’re really trying to make me regret this, aren’t you?” Andrew asks.
“Is it working?”
Andrew catches Neil by the front of his shirt and pulls him in, so he’s half-across the seats, seatbelt pulled taut and the gear shift digging into his side. Neil blinks in surprise, takes a moment to be glad that he didn’t end up hitting the horn with his back, then another moment to appreciate the pretty freckles on Andrew’s perpetually sun-flushed nose.
“Not a chance,” Andrew says, right before dragging him into a bruising kiss. “The ice cream’s worth it.”