Work Text:
In the spring of Andrew’s fifth year at PSU, he’s got enough on his plate without having to worry about Neil as well. He has to think about passing his classes so he can actually receive his diploma. They’re in the death matches of the spring season and getting worked to the bone. He’s fending off Kevin’s calls about how he needs to put in effort to impress the scouts and asking if Andrew’s gotten any interest from teams yet; he’s doing research on what professional teams will also need a striker in the next few years.
So really, he has no time to be dealing with Neil’s shit.
Or at least, that’s what Andrew assumes Neil is thinking. Andrew hasn’t struggled in his classes since he actually had the opportunity to fill in the gaps in his education. Neil’s whipped the team into enough shape that Andrew could put in maybe 60% effort and they’ll still beat Texas on Friday, and pissing Kevin off is highly amusing when he’s in the right mood. The research on the professional Exy teams is admittedly mentally taxing, but ultimately a necessary evil.
So really, Neil’s just being an idiot, as usual.
They’re sitting on the bench watching the underclassmen scrimmage, and Neil’s leg is shaking.
This isn’t completely out of the ordinary except for the fact that Neil’s leg has been shaking for nine days and counting. Neil’s leg has been shaking in their dorm, shaking in the passenger seat, shaking on the roof, shaking on the court, shaking at his desk. Andrew grinds his teeth and tries to figure out why no one else has fucking mentioned it because it’s driving him insane. He’s about ready to grab Neil by the shirt collar and shake the answers right out of him.
“Your leg is going to run away without you,” Andrew says.
It stops. “Sorry,” Neil says, eyes still on the court.
Andrew isn’t looking for an apology, he’s looking for an explanation, but Neil’s not paying enough attention to him at the moment. Fucking junkie.
The stillness lasts all of ten minutes.
“Hey, Neil?”
Matt Boyd hasn’t changed one single bit that Andrew can tell.
Neil looks up from his pancakes. “Hmm?”
“You’re shaking the whole table with your leg,” Matt laughs. Always so gentle with his requests, so easily saying that he’s noticed.
The leg stops. It won’t stay that way. Andrew mentally bets on seven minutes if they start a conversation, thirteen if they don’t. Idly, Andrew wonders if he could make a game show out of this.
“Oh,” Neil smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Andrew shoves syrup with a little pancake in it into his mouth and doesn’t comment.
“That’s okay,” Matt says. “Everything alright? I know we haven’t talked in a little while.”
“Yeah, everything’s good.” Neil nods big and swallows his food. “Really good.”
Matt beams and Andrew wants to punch him when Neil reciprocates it with a grin. “I’m glad! I was really excited that I had time to stop by and see you on my way home. I’ve missed you.” He points his fork at Neil. It’s for emphasis rather than a threat so Andrew lets it go. “You need to call me more.”
Neil winces. “I know.”
Matt laughs. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I dated the captain, remember? I know how much time that takes up, especially in your last couple years, so I understand.”
The leg starts shaking. Andrew looks at his phone.
Less than two minutes. Clearly, he’s giving Neil too much credit.
They’re both sitting on the bottom bunk, Andrew leaned against the wall with his legs stretched out and his book by his side, forgotten for the moment.
Neil is perched on the edge of the bed with his feet on the ground and his leg has been shaking the whole goddamn bed since three and a half minutes after he sat down. Andrew lost the ability to focus shortly after that and has been trying to mentally convey his displeasure by glaring at the outline of Neil’s shoulders.
Andrew kicks his hip.
Surprisingly, when Neil shifts to look back at him, his leg stops shaking.
“What?” he asks.
Andrew glares at his face now, making his displeasure known. Once he’s sure Neil understands, he asks, “You won’t see Betsy?”
Neil’s face does that thing where he tries not to show Andrew just how uncomfortable the idea makes him. Like he doesn’t want to hurt Andrew’s feelings or something, and Andrew doesn’t need that shit.
“Talking to Betsy, yes or no?”
Neil turns away. “No.”
Andrew kicks his hip again and Neil scowls at him.
“What, Andrew?”
“Something’s bothering you, spit it out.”
“Fuck you.”
Ooooh, Andrew would like to fuck that attitude right out of him, but that’s not in the picture and not going solve anything so he just shoves Neil’s head on his way to have a cigarette.
The idiot follows him out.
Andrew considers it an ambush in his mind, because he refuses to consider what he’s actually doing.
“Lay down,” he orders, “back against the wall.”
Neil does, staring at Andrew like he’s trying to figure him out. It’s nothing new, though still makes Andrew want to shove his gaze away.
Andrew eyes him, making sure he’s going to stay there and then proceeds to thoroughly dismantle Neil’s, Kevin’s, and his own beds, pulling everything but the sheets into a huge pile in the middle of the room. He checks Neil’s reaction to get a gauge on where he is mentally, and he looks extremely confused so everything is going according to plan.
Andrew takes a couple blankets, and scrunches them into a barrier on the bed in front of Neil, but leaves enough space for himself. He throws two pillows at Neil’s face and lines Kevin’s two pillows and his second one along where the blanket barrier is, then he takes the thin sheet blanket Neil has and stuffs one edge under the mattress of the top bunk. It hangs down and makes a curtain between the bed and the rest of the bedroom, temporarily hiding Neil from his view. Andrew snatches the last blanket, his soft throw, and carefully moves the blanket curtain so he can fall in next to Neil.
Neil makes to move to let Andrew against the wall, but he pushes Neil back down and settles with his back against the pillow and blanket barrier.
Neil stares at him.
There’s something soft in his eyes that makes Andrew drag the blanket over his head.
Neil laughs, quiet and intimate in their little hideaway, and when he pulls the blanket down again his hair is wild. He asks, “Did you just make a nest?”
Andrew narrows his eyes. “It’s a fort.”
“It feels like a nest,” Neil says, running his hand along the blanket.
“Well good thing I made it, and I get to call it whatever I want. So it’s a fucking fort.”
Neil laughs and nuzzles his face into his pillow to hide his grin, which Andrew appreciates because he might have to wipe it off his face with his mouth if he didn’t. That’s not where this is supposed to be headed.
Andrew curls his hand into the little hairs at the base of Neil’s skull and pulls his attention back. He looks at Andrew with some leftover amusement but seems to understand Andrew’s intensity.
“This,” Andrew jerks his chin to indicate what he’s done, “is Fort… Josten, or whatever. This is your space. You’re safe here.”
Neil gets that look on his face. The look that’s similar to the one that he has when people are nice to him for reasons he can’t understand, but this particular look has only ever been for Andrew. Slowly, Neil leans forward, and after a sharp nod from Andrew, brushes his lips against Andrew’s. “Thank you,” he says, their lips dragging together and his breath curls across Andrew’s cheeks.
“Talk,” Andrew replies. He tries to make it sound like a request and that has to count for something.
Neil moves so their lips aren’t touching anymore but keeps their foreheads pressed together. They breathe the same air.
Neil’s quiet for a long time and Andrew can understand that.
“I’m not ready to let you go yet.” Neil whispers it, the words barely there, like he’s afraid to bring it up at all.
If Andrew could feel things the way that he’s been told is normal, he’d probably feel something like a sinking feeling in his chest at where this conversation is headed. Instead, he feels the slow simmering start of irritation. He’d hoped they could avoid this conversation for a couple more months at least.
“You don’t own me,” Andrew reminds Neil, mostly because it’ll irritate him too.
Sure enough, his mouth tightens. “I know, Andrew.”
When he doesn’t go on, Andrew kicks his foot. “And?”
Neil kicks him back. “And nothing. That’s it. I’m stressing about shit that you’re just going to brush off as meaningless, so I’m not going to go into it and give you the opportunity to make me feel worse.”
Andrew grinds his teeth, and says nothing. He’d wanted to create a space to help Neil relax, but he should have realized that a space like that wouldn’t involve him.
Andrew moves to leave.
Neil grabs the sleeve of his shirt, face crumpled in a poor imitation of pain, like it doesn’t quite know how to accomplish it. “Don’t, I– You made this, I don’t–” He seems to actually think about his words. “Stay.”
He does.
Neil takes a deep breath. “I know. I know it’s not easy for you, what we do, what you’re... I’m feeling. I understand why, and I don’t want to push you.”
Neil pauses but Andrew doesn’t think he’s supposed to say anything. What would he even say? Thank you? No. He does not need to thank someone for respecting his boundaries. If Neil didn’t want to deal with them, he could leave. There’s nothing to be said about that.
He’s saved by Neil continuing, quieter than before. “But the thing is that, this does mean something to me. You mean something. I mean,” Neil’s eyes plead him to understand even if his lips never would. “You’re here all the time– in my space, cooking me food, making me a... a fort ,” Neil smiles ruefully then, in that way that Andrew’s found means he’s thinking about sex, “giving me blowjobs. Late night practices, drinking at Eden’s, doing homework, dealing with the underclassmen, annoying the shit out of Wymack.”
Neil tugs on Andrew’s sleeve again, so Andrew slides his hand up to meet his, ignoring the urge to flinch away from what he’s saying.
Neil takes strength from it. “We’ve done those things together for three years and all of it means something to me and... it’s really going to suck when you’re gone and I don’t have it anymore.”
Cautiously, Andrew tries to remember times that he and Neil have shared when he felt something, where it might have meant anything. But then there are just flashes of–
fear-irritation-want-agony-surprise-irritation-want-fearfear fear - agony -relief-hope-fear-want-fear-wantwant-surprise-irritation-wantwant wantwant -surprise-hopewant-irritation
Andrew focuses on the blue of Neil’s eyes and the brush of the blanket on his arm and tramples down the memories. Helpfully, a cartoon bunny hops into his mind. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.
“You can still do most of those things without me,” Andrew says, even though that’s not the point.
Neil lets out a short huff, and that’s how Andrew knows he’s really irritating him. “Weren’t you listening? It’s that I’ll be alone when I do them. You won’t be there. I want you there.”
Unbidden, the memory of Neil asleep in front of him in the bed in Columbia. Andrew had looked at him much closer than he is now, wanting to remember it in detail. He remembers wanting to remember what his presence felt like, what it felt like to just exist next to each other. He remembers feeling–
content.
satisfied.
maybe the tiniest bit… pleased.
Andrew’s aware that those things won’t be present when he graduates and signs with a team, not while Neil is still at Palmetto.
But after Neil graduates…
Obviously impatient with Andrew’s lack of response, Neil continues, “Maybe I’ll have to call Matt up and have him drive down and build me a nest.”
Andrew would roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to give Neil the satisfaction. “Goading me is useless if I have never made the thing you are claiming I have made.”
“Hmm,” Neil says, trying not to smile. “Hey, Andrew,” he says. “What do you think the function of a nest is?”
Andrew hopes his look is withering, but he’ll humor this. It helps that half of this is spouted from memory. “The functions of forts and nests are similar, as they are both means of protection and shelter. They both have to take into account their environment and are ultimately a guard against outside forces.”
Neil pulls the blanket up over his smile, but Andrew just goes on.
“A nest is small and flimsy. Any child with a stick could fuck one up. Forts can hold up against far stronger adversaries and will last for hundreds if not thousands of years.” Andrew is bored of the sound of his own voice by the time he’s done talking.
Neil snorts into the blanket. “So you’re keeping me safe from all kinds of adversaries in here?”
“I told you this was Fort Josten.”
“I’m pretty sure this is just as flimsy as a nest. Any child could–”
Andrew flattens his hand across the blanket over Neil’s mouth. “Have you ever heard of symbolism?”
Neil’s next words are garbled against Andrew’s hand, and he doesn’t bother to ask Neil to repeat himself.
“The part you should be paying attention to is the fact that they are long-lasting,” Andrew says.
Neil cocks his head, not quite putting the pieces together or perhaps dismissing the obvious. The movement dislodges Andrew’s hand, and he lets it fall to rest between them.
“This is a fort because I am prepared to rebuild it over and over until you see sense,” Andrew goes on.
“What did Einstein say about doing the same thing over and over?” Neil teases.
Gritting his teeth against the now repeating The definition of insanity–The definition of insanity–The definition of insanity –, Andrew switches tact. “You being there is a requirement for me to be able to rebuild this shitty fort, Josten.”
Andrew can see the moment his words hit him, because Neil has never been good at hiding things from Andrew.
“Oh,” he says. Then, softer, “Oh.”
Neil pulls the blanket the rest of the way off his face and reveals a tiny pleased smile. It rankles Andrew, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
Instead, he thinks of what Bee had dared him last month.
Next time you and Neil speak of what happens between the two of you, I challenge you to say something that’s openly vulnerable.
Andrew works his jaw. It’s childish to fall for something as simple as the phrasing of an action that she thinks would be good for him. Unfortunately, even if he doesn’t talk about Neil very much, going to the same therapist for four and a half years means that she knows him fairly well.
You might be surprised by the response.
I hate surprises.
Still.
The idea wiggles around at the front of his thoughts as Neil absently starts to play with his fingers. The pleased little smile has taken over his eyes as well, content with this bit of Andrew’s thoughts even if they don’t directly address what he’d been worried about. Andrew watches him move his hand around without protest, debating what he could say.
“Neil,” Andrew says, then stops, uncertain.
He hates Neil.
“Hmm?” He turns his eyes to Andrew, bright with.. something. Andrew refuses to call it happiness.
Abruptly Andrew is aware of his back to the flimsy sheet hanging from the upper bunk. He can’t see anything behind it; he’d never know if someone was sneaking up on him. Just beyond that curtain is–
a weakness.
a vulnerability.
“I would also rather do things with you than without you,” Andrew says.
a freefall.
Andrew wants to skewer it with a knife.
Neil looks dumbfounded, then his lips contort in a visible fight against a smile. His eyes are so bright, and they do nothing to calm Andrew’s racing heart. Neil starts to respond, “That’s–” Then he seems to think better of it and shuts his mouth.
For once, Andrew wishes he wouldn’t, just so he has an excuse to tear him apart. Bee was wrong, she was so wrong, this feels terrible. Andrew both wants to leave immediately and to kick Neil out so he’s not the one running away. He wants to punch Neil’s face in or choke the life out of him so what he said won’t be real, won’t be real, won’t be–
Andrew can feel his shoulders tighten and he pulls his hand out of Neil’s.
“Andrew?” Neil doesn’t take Andrew’s hand back, and the smile has left his face. Instead, there’s the soft intensity of him trying to figure out how to respond.
Andrew hopes Neil knows how close he is to knocking his head right off his shoulders. Turns out the fort can’t protect you from the things already inside it.
“Thank you for telling me that. It makes me feel better,” Neil says, continuing to meet his eyes with that calm look.
As the seconds pass, and they lay together, the panic slowly leaves Andrew’s thoughts to be replaced by a sinking numbness. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this conversation anymore.
After a few minutes, Neil hovers his hand over Andrew’s again, asking but not asking. Andrew stares at it. Eventually, Andrew lifts his hand to meet his and Neil gently pulls it to his chest to hold it there.
“Hey,” Neil says, and Andrew drags his eyes up from where his hand is. “Can I make Fort Josten a safe space for you too?”
Andrew takes a minute to answer. “It’s your fort, I don’t care.”
“Okay,” Neil allows. “I just thought, since we both said things that were… hard to talk about, then maybe it’s safe for both of us. Doesn’t leave this room and all that.”
Andrew doesn’t respond.
“Okay,” Neil says again, unbothered. “Do you want to go to the store with me?”
Again, Andrew processes this. “Why.”
The corner of Neil’s lips curl up. “You just said you want to do things with me,” he says, “and I was thinking we could go get ice cream and strawberries for instant endorphins.”
“I don’t want anything,” Andrew says automatically, then thinks it through. “But I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t get the dairy-free shit again.”
Neil snorts at the poor excuse. “Sure.”
They continue to lay there for long minutes before they slowly get up and get ready. Andrew can’t help but notice how entwined their routine is, completely aware of where the other person is going, what they’re grabbing. Neil grabs Andrew’s coat for him like it’s nothing.
It is nothing, Andrew tells himself.
But even he can recognize the denial in that.