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Nicky feels high as a kite right now, pumped off the night’s win even as his muscles ache and his clothes stick to him with sweat. He jumps his way to the shower, exchanging grins with Neil, nods with Aaron and Kevin, and celebratory whoops with Matt and some of the freshmen as he goes.
He spends a minute luxuriating under the hot spray of the shower before he starts to wash himself off in earnest, trying to get himself clean so he can hitch a ride with Aaron and Katelyn to grab a bite with some of the Vixens before heading back to party at Fox Tower.
He really does rush through getting ready, so it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise when he realizes, as Katelyn is pulling out of the parking lot, that he left his phone in the jacket inside his locker.
Aaron gives a petulant groan when Nicky voices this, only upping the volume when Nicky protests, “But what if Erik calls me?! I need my phone!”
Katelyn, sweetheart that she is, tries to turn the car around, but the number of people and vehicles flowing out from around the stadium soon show that that’s pretty much impossible.
Nicky sighs and says as much to Katelyn and Aaron. He steps out of the car into the snowy air, shivering as the breeze tousles his wet hair, and tells Katelyn to try and find somewhere to pull over outside to wait for him as he goes back on foot.
Nicky works his way back through the lot to the stadium with his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie, only taking them out to flip off the cars that honk at him in complaint when he cuts across the rows. Honestly, people act like they’ve never seen a pedestrian before when they’re trying to hurry somewhere. Ridiculous.
By the time Nicky navigates his way back to the locker rooms, he’s sure that enough time has passed for them to have emptied out completely.
It comes as a surprise, then, when he walks in and is greeted by the sight of Andrew sitting on one of the benches, a freshly showered Neil standing in front of him and seemingly… Helping him out of his gear?
Andrew immediately turns to look at him as the door closes, betraying Nicky’s presence with a squeak of protest. Andrew raises an unimpressed eyebrow in Nicky’s direction, raising a hand to grab Neil’s wrist and stop him from the way he begins to pull away and step back.
Nicky opens his mouth, teasing comments at the ready, and then he takes in the tired slope of Andrew’s shoulders, the defensive hunch of Neil’s posture.
He remembers, then, the fact that Andrew had been in the goal for most of the night’s game—Renee was still recovering from an ankle injury a couple games back, and the new goalies still weren’t quite up to par. Andrew had pretty much shut down the goal every moment he was in it to make up for the balls the others had let in.
He must be exhausted. Instead of letting loose any of the comments he had readied, Nicky just says, “Left my phone behind! Just came back to grab it real quick.” He’s met with a nod from Neil and a dismissive turn of the head from Andrew.
Nicky walks over to his locker, pointedly telling himself not to stare as Neil continues to strip the outer layers of Andrew’s padding. He can’t help that his ears are focused on every sound from the pair as he puts in his combination, though—he’s not a saint.
“I thought I was supposed to be the junkie always over-doing it, huh?” he hears Neil murmur. “What’s your excuse, then? Early Christmas present?”
“How about the pitiful look on your face when Thomas let in three goals in a row? It was pretty fucking sad. I knew I’d have to deal with you later if we lost.”
“Ahhh, I see.” Even though he’s turned away, Nicky can hear the smile in Neil’s voice. “How entirely selfish of you, then. Only stepping up to avoid having to deal with some pouting.”
“When have I ever claimed to have a single non-selfish bone in my body? You’re mistaken to think otherwise.”
“Am I, though? You want me to make a list of all the times that prove it?”
“…123%, moron. Just hurry up. You owe me ice cream.”
“Andrew, it is literally almost snowing outside. How can you want ice cream right now?”
“124%—you heard me, Neil.”
“Fine, but don’t think you can try to blame it on me when you’re cold again later. And I’m not carrying the pint you try to bring home.”
“Bold of you to assume there’ll be any left by that point.”
“I know there’ll be some left, if only so you can stick the carton in the freezer to taunt Kevin.”
“…Perhaps,” Andrew concedes.
At this point, Nicky is definitely stalling—his phone is in his hands, and he knows that he’s definitely keeping Aaron and Katelyn waiting.
It’s just that he never really gets to see Andrew and Neil like this, showing their care for one another, teasing with no heat behind their barbs. Nicky sees them like this and finds it hard to believe he ever thought the relationship between them was just physical.
And Andrew actually seems to feel now—or maybe that’s not fair of Nicky to say. Andrew shows it now, at least sometimes, and it’s not the drug-induced mania of before with its fake smiles and empty laughs.
Seeing them like they are now is a comfort; when Andrew and Neil are like this together, it’s almost like they’re just another couple, happy together with none of the baggage, none of the past traumas underlying every interaction.
(And Nicky knows as terrible as it is, that’s part of what’s drawn them together—like recognizing like. But he just wishes that they never would have experienced it in the first place, that Andrew’s childhood had no shadows haunting it and that Neil had no scars marking him. It’s a futile wish, but damn if he doesn’t hope for it still.)
Nicky shuts his locker, making sure to shut the door just loud enough to give warning that he’s turning around. He gives the boys a wave over his shoulder as he turns to leave, saying his “See you later” and “Drive safe” as he goes. It’s better not to show them how broadly he’s smiling—maybe if he doesn’t comment on how cute they are, they’ll act like this more often in front of him.
That would be enough of a present for him.