Work Text:
The idea came from Nicky.
Because all bad ideas came from Nicky.
“We’re so broke,” Nicky whined as he looked at their zeroed bank account through the laptop screen. “At least we can feed in the cafeteria for the rest of the month until we get our monthly allowance.”
Andrew said nothing and turned another page of the book he was reading.
“I think I’ll get on one of these websites to become a sugar baby. At least we would be able to order takeout,” Nicky chuckled.
“No,” Andrew turned another page in his book.
“Why not?” Nicky furrowed his eyebrows as he turned on the bean bag to look at Andrew, who was sitting on the sofa.
“Because it’s fucking dangerous, that’s why,” Andrew glared at him.
“But those platforms do background checks and shit. It should be fine. And we wouldn’t be so broke anymore,” Nicky pleaded.
“Nicky, I don’t want you interacting with fetishist old men who can take advantage of you for money. We’ll be fine,” he answered sternly, his face serious and blank as usual. “We can try to see if Wymack could put in a word for us with a work around campus. In the library or something. But I don’t trust you to take care of yourself, not with that,” Andrew turned back to his book.
“Of course, I can take care of myself,” Nicky sputtered. “I-”
“You’re literally the most eager-to-please person that I have ever met in my life. That’s dangerous when dealing with those men, Nicky. They’ll use that shit against you. You won’t do it,” Andrew turned another page in his book. Things were getting steamy between Percy and Monty. Oh, yes.
“Then you should do it.”
Wait.
What?
“What?” Andrew turned his blank face to Nicky and blinked.
“You’re the most stubborn person I have ever met,” Nicky was already beginning to get excited once again. He put his laptop to the side, on the floor, and began gesticulating. “You don’t let anyone take advantage of you, so if any potential sugar daddies got handsy you would stab them and everything would be fine. Also, those websites make sure you establish like, if you’re open to having an actual relationship or,” at Andrew’s snort at that, Nicky chuckled, “yeah, that’s what I thought. But you don’t have to have a relationship with the person. It could simply be an agreement. There are plenty of people out there who are interested in just paying stuff for broke kids without anything in return but some answered texts and dinner company from time to time. And you can even have a sugar mommy if you feel more comfortable around women.”
Andrew frowned.
“What part of ‘Wymack can get a job on campus for us’ didn’t you understand?”
“Andrew,” Nicky rolled his eyes as if he was being unreasonable when Andrew was damn sure Nicky was the one being unreasonable here. “Do you really think Kevin would just let that come through? He would probably bitch every single time we went to work about how we would be losing practice, energy, time, or whatever. It would be hell. Besides, did you consider he might even talk to Wymack about not allowing us to work because of our training schedule? We might not have another choice.”
Nicky had a point. Kevin could and would do that, he was terrible enough to go through it and maybe do something even worse like trying to help. But Andrew had never backed down from a point in his life, so.
“It’s not like we need more money anyway,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “We have the scholarship’s allowance and we’ve been handling it just fine for more than three years now.”
“Yeah, but we've been fine because of Tilda’s life insurance and it is almost entirely gone. We have only a couple thousand left and that won’t last much more. We need more income and quickly,” Nicky’s eyes were pleading.
“Why are you so adamant about this?” Andrew narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not,” Nicky extended his hands in a show of innocence. “I just thought it was a good idea for easy money, that’s all.”
Andrew hummed and turned back to his book. After that, Nicky dropped the subject.
But the subject didn’t drop Andrew.
The idea kept nagging Andrew at the back of his mind for a total of two weeks, making him try to conceive all the possible pros and cons. By the end of those two weeks, Andrew was willing to try and see if he could find a fucking sugar daddy. The idea in itself was laughable, but just as Bee had said in their sessions in the past week, why not try? It wouldn’t hurt. And if it hurt, he would fucking hurt it back tenfold.
Andrew sat on the bean bag in their cramped living room in the dorms and opened his laptop. He had put on his armbands and filled it with his knives, feeling more settled as the cold metal touched his skin, reminding him of how he could defend himself fucking fine. He had also put on sunglasses and had tightened the elastic of the hood of his hoodie over his face so only his nose and eyes would be showing. He didn’t want to be recognizable in case those fuckers could somehow access his webcam.
With his attire in order, and wanting to see what being a sugar baby was all about, Andrew began his research.
During that, he found a website that seemed to be pretty legit, and before he could stop himself, he made an account.
It was made fairly quickly even if it had been a pain in the ass to choose a picture for his profile since it was supposedly obligatory for all the sugar babies on the website. He didn’t have much to say besides that he didn’t want a relationship and that sex was out of the question, and he only had to wait thirty minutes before his profile was approved by the moderators of the website. Now he would be able to try and find a fucking sugar daddy. Yay. Joy.
He scrolled down the page of “Sugar Daddies”. Some of them were hot. Some were okay. But some were definitely not, Andrew thought as he passed by the profile of a wrinkled and stained 80-year-old bastard. He even blocked the fucker. He didn’t want that raisin knowing he existed.
He was going idly through the page and he noticed that the website was pretty good at helping you find what you wanted, with people compatible with you. There were tags and succinct descriptions of what all those rich people wanted from a sugar baby, some implying wanting sex and some not. The most surprising though was that most of those filthy rich bastards just searched for travel buddies or company of some kind, which was something that made Andrew wary. Because certainly, they didn’t want just company. All of them went in with expectations and even if they didn’t hope or want to achieve anything sexually in the beginning, certainly they would at one point. And that was something Andrew was definitely not willing.
He had saved some profiles to read in more detail though, all of them implying wanting company for events and the kind, which Andrew found was ok when he came across him.
@nejo123
Age: 39.
Position: CFO.
Liquid Earnings: +10 mi USD a year.
Description: This was my boss’ idea and I have no idea how to do this shit, but I just have more money than I can handle, and I like taking care of people, especially financially. I don’t like physical touch that much. Sex is definitely not my interest, I’m ace, and probably aro as well but that’s not confirmed. I’m just kind of lonely and have way too much money. I only have one friend and she’s my boss. So. Yeah. Kinda looking for a friend and someone I can spend my money on. Oh, I’m a man. He/him pronouns. Message me if interested. Yeah, that's it.
It looked promising. The most promising until now. The man was ace, only wanted a friend, and was not old enough to look like a raisin. Besides, he was filthy rich, holy fuck, 10 million a year? What the fuck? How the fuck did people make that much money?
He didn’t have a profile picture though, and that made Andrew wary.
Still, Andrew messaged him.
@exyisbad: your description is depressing.
Yeah, that’s good, Andrew nodded to himself. And he left it at that.
He sent messages to a couple of other “daddies” that looked alright as well and then downloaded the app on his smartphone so he didn’t need to keep using the laptop. He logged out of the website and then stretched his back as he stood up. He looked down at his cellphone. Shit, it was almost time for the athlete's cafeteria to close for the night. Shit.
And without even thinking about the messages anymore, he put on his boots and walked out the door.
~
@nejo123: i know right? my friend keeps telling me that. it’s honest tho. yours is pretty direct too and i can respect that. (also, WTF DO YOU MEAN EXY IS BAD??)
Andrew had been looking at that message for 15 minutes. He had just woken up from his afternoon nap when he picked up his phone to check the hour and saw the app notification with it.
He didn’t know what to make of it.
If he could look past the junkie part of it, the man seemed alright. He hadn’t been offended by Andrew’s prickly message and that was the first test to see if they would be able to tolerate each other. The other two he had messaged had gone all “you should have more respect, young man” and Andrew blocked them in the same second. Still, he still had all the reasons to be wary of this older stranger.
Hm. Andrew would answer him.
@exyisbad: exy is the worst. don’t tell me you’re another junkie.
Andrew sent it and got up and out of his room, shivering from the cold when he got out from under the blankets. There was a cool afternoon sun filtering in through the window of the living room when he got there, making the idea of having a cigarette as he was warmed by said sun really pleasing. He went into the bedroom again and picked up his pack and lighter before returning to the living room. He climbed on top of his desk in front of the window and opened the glass, letting the fresh autumn air come in through the crack.
Andrew took a deep breath of that clean air, before picking up a cigarette from his pack and lighting it up, dragging the smoke in greedily and then puffing it out through the window.
He was on the half of his cigarette when his phone pinged.
@nejo123: exy is a fucking fine sport thank you very much now fuck off
Oh, the old bear was showing his claws. Cute.
@exyisbad: you should put that on your description. would’ve kept me away.
Andrew sent without a second of hesitation. What a loser, he rolled his eyes.
@nejo123: i think my description is already depressing enough that nobody ever approached me but i'll put that in the suggestion’s box
Andrew arched his eyebrow at that.
@exyisbad: then are you sure about me fucking off? you’ll be all sad and lonely poor thing with all that money to yourself
@nejo123: nah. don’t wanna u fucking off. but i like exy. a lot.
@exyisbad: fucking noticed it
@nejo123: if u hate it then u must know something about it right
@exyisbad: im not talking about exy with u
And just to showcase what he said, he stopped answering for the rest of the day, despite the pings his phone emitted.
When he laid down that night though, he checked the messages.
@nejo123: why not
@nejo123: i dont have anyone to talk about exy
@nejo123: pleeeease
@exyisbad: i hate that word. dont.
Andrew sent it before he thought about it too much. If they kept talking, this stranger would have to know that at some point.
He was almost falling asleep when his phone pinged from under his pillow. He grabbed it and saw it was a message from the exy lover.
@nejo123: the p one? ok
@nejo123: but could u tell me at least why you hate exy
@exyisbad: because it's a pointless sport
@nejo123: and which fucking sport has a point dumbass
Andrew wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but himself, but he snorted.
@exyisbad: touché. but exy is the worst of them.
@nejo123: why
Andrew worried his bottom lip as he thought about how to answer that.
@exyisbad: if u want an answer for that i’ll need something in return
@nejo123: how much
Andrew rolled his eyes. Of course, the filthy rich bastard was ready to spend money on that. But before he could ask for money he needed something else.
@exyisbad: a picture of yourself
The stranger didn’t answer for five minutes, and when Andrew was almost sleeping the phone pinged again.
@nejo123: i suppose me knowing how u look like and u don’t knowing how i look is unfair
And then he sent a picture.
It looked like it had just been taken because the picture showed only the face of a man laid down, wild and long auburn hair messy on the pillow with an icy blue eye staring blankly right at the camera. There were scars on his face marrying the skin painfully, but they were clearly long healed and they did nothing to hide the fact that the man was fucking gorgeous.
Suddenly, this hot as fuck stranger being seventeen years older than Andrew wasn't that much. Not that much at all.
Andrew almost smirked at that. Oh yes, he was getting a hot as fuck sugar daddy.
@exyisbad: i hate exy because of the violence. whats the fucking point on all of that shit just to toss a ball into a fucking goal
@nejo123: never would’ve thought you’re a pacifist
@exyisbad: i’m not i just think violence needs a better reason to be used
@exyisbad: exy is an offense to violence really
@exyisbad: poor violence being used in such a shitty sport
@nejo123: that’s more like it
Andrew almost smiled. Almost.
@exyisbad: already trying to figure me out?
@nejo123: i wouldn’t dare
Andrew did not sleep with a smile on his face after that. He did not.
~
The next morning, Andrew was in his English Literature class and bored as fuck when his cellphone pinged.
@nejo123: would u feel comfortable sharing your name with me?
@exyisbad: why
@nejo123: why what
@exyisbad: why do you want to know
@nejo123: because i’ve been trying to talk with my friend about you but i didn’t know what to call you besides “the exy hater”
Talking about him, uh? Andrew smirked inwardly.
@exyisbad: we cant have that i dont wanna be associated with anything exy
@nejo123: thats what i thought so
@exyisbad: i’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours
@nejo123: my name is neil. neil josten. you can look me up if u want to.
Hm. Interesting of him to say that. Now Andrew would definitely need to look him up.
He looked up, trying to see if his teacher was paying attention, but the man was with his nose deep in a book, and so Andrew googled “Neil Josten”.
Lots of things came up. Lots of interesting things.
The first thing was an article of a financial magazine, and it seemed to be from five years ago, from when Neil Josten assumed the CFO position on Reynolds Holdings or RH, a multinational company based in Columbia, South Carolina, that was intricate in the literature and fashion market. In that article was a photo of the same man from yesterday’s picture. In this one, he looked happier and less tired, used an annoyingly beautiful smile on his face, and shook hands with a woman that looked like a living Barbie doll. Apparently, she was Allison Reynolds, CEO of the company. He seemed tiny near the woman, and Andrew thought that the man seemed close to his own height, which was weird. No one besides Andrew and Aaron was that small.
The second thing was another financial magazine, with a speech of Neil’s at a press conference, talking about his impressions on RH branching to China.
The third thing was yet another financial magazine, but this time it was The fucking Economist magazine, and it was an article made by Neil Josten tearing down Trump’s economic reform plan when he had been running for the elections back in 2016.
The fourth was actually a profile on Linkedin with his curriculum, and fuck, now Andrew understood why the man was fucking loaded. He had graduated from Columbia University with honors, and done his master's and Ph.D. in Oxford, becoming a teacher there for a few years before being called to work with RH back in the States. The man spoke fucking eight languages.
Andrew’s competency kink was showing a bit, and so he exited that website before rolling down Google’s page, already giving up on trying to dig up some dirt when he found the last link of the page. It was from The New York Times and the title was “Crimelord’s son shines and cuts relationships with his past.”
Oh, that was fucking something.
The article was simple and it gave little information, but it painted briefly a little fun story about a boy called Nathaniel Wesninski, who took another name after his father’s execution after years on death row. When the article began to talk too much about the boy’s story, Andrew closed the tag on his phone. It had been enough.
@exyisbad: my name is andrew minyard
~
@nejo123: NO FUCKING WAY UR AN EXY PLAYER ASUHDOAIJSKD
Andrew rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his sandwich.
@exyisbad: it pays the bills
@nejo123: AND UR GOOD ASDIAHJS LIKE OMG UR ONE OF THE BEST GOALIES OUT THERE
@exyisbad: ur laughing arent you
@nejo123: IM FUCKING WHEEZING
“Andrew, why are you staring holes into your cell phone?” Kevin’s annoying voice came from the other side of the table.
“None of your fucking business,” Andrew grumbled without looking up and already typing his answer.
@exyisbad: fucking stop then
@nejo123: how can u hate a sport u play so damn well
@exyisbad: it doesn't hold my interest
@nejo123: i can see from a few press conferences of yours that few things do hold your interest yeah
@nejo123: but what does
@exyisbad: hold my interest?
@nejo123: yes
Andrew stopped and stared. Why the fuck did the man want to know that?
He finished his sandwich and got out of the cafeteria. He sat on a bench outside of it and lit a cigarette before answering Neil.
@exyisbad: wanna trade truths?
@nejo123: what kind of truths
Good fucking question, Andrew frowned down at this phone.
@exyisbad: any type we want
@exyisbad: if u dont wanna answer it just say that u pass
@nejo123: ok cool
@nejo123: so what holds your interest?
@exyisbad: baking, reading and cars. italian cars to be exact
@nejo123: oh
@nejo123 : thats so nice
@exyisbad: what about you
@nejo123 : all things math, running and music
@exyisbad: mr economist is a nerd and an exercise junkie
@exyisbad: ur like the worst type of person ever
@exyisbad: that would be your contact name: worst type of person
@nejo123: can i have your number?
Andrew blinked down at his screen.
“Hey!”
Andrew turned around to see Aaron jogging from the cafeteria entrance to him.
“What are you doing here?” Aaron gasped as he stopped by Andrew’s bench with his hands on his knees.
Andrew just took a drag of his cigarette. He wouldn’t answer stupid questions.
“Right, asshole,” Aaron rolled his eyes as he straightened his spine. “We have class right now. And we’re already late.”
Andrew rolled his eyes back at Aaron, but he still stood up, put his phone in his back pocket, and stomped on his cigarette nonetheless.
“It’s your fault we’re even in this class anyway,” Aaron mumbled, sullen and walking by his side to the Linguistics building.
“It’s not. It's Nicky's."
“You’re right,” Aaron scoffed and adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “He's the one who insisted on twin bonding. What an idiot.”
Andrew hummed in agreement.
“You did the homework?”
Andrew shrugged.
“Andrew,” Aaron groaned. “You said you would do the writing exercises. You’re better in French than I am.”
“It’s done, dumbass. Relax,” Andrew rolled his eyes again.
“Oh,” Aaron’s annoyance seemed to diminish and he gave Andrew a tiny smirk. “Ok, then.”
Andrew turned forward and when they arrived in their classroom, Andrew picked up his phone again.
@exyisbad: here’s my number ********
~
unknown: ur contact name is “exy hater friend who i intend to spend my money on”
Andrew rolled his eyes at that and immediately saved the contact, forgetting all about the cooking show passing on the TV.
You: and what would u want in return for that
A few minutes passed and he had just begun getting engaged again in Lila’s attempt at a croissant when he got an answer.
Worst Type Of Person: nothing?
Worst Type Of Person: i mean i would really like for us to hang out sometimes but talking like this is cool too, if u don’t wanna meet
Worst Type Of Person: i understand if u dont wanna meet tho
Worst Type Of Person: just wanna be friends really
Andrew narrowed his eyes.
You: stop lying and tell me what you want already
Worst Type Of Person: im not fucking lying
Andrew frowned.
You: everybody wants something neil
Worst Type Of Person: and i told you what i want andrew
You: prove it to me
Worst Type Of Person: prove what
You: that you’re serious and that you only want friendship from me
Worst Type Of Person: and how can i prove that if not only over time?
You: i want a maserati. the newest model.
There. No way this guy would buy him a fucking Maserati. He probably would disappear and go to his next victim, who would be easier to handle.
Andrew turned to continue watching his cooking show and in no time at all, he was only feeling pity for poor Lila. She had forgotten to melt the butter.
As he laid down that night with Kevin’s snores lulling him to sleep, Andrew almost smirked with satisfaction when he saw Neil still hadn’t answered him.
He had always been right.
~
“Andrew!”
Nicky’s screech startled him awake with a halt.
He had a knife in each hand and was already bolting out the door of his dorm room when he saw Nicky looking out the window in the living room.
He seemed to be fine and so he slowed down.
“What’s happening?”
Nicky turned to him with wide eyes and startled when he noticed the knives on his hands.
“Everything’s fine, put those things away,” he turned back to the window with a huge grin on his face and pointed outside. “Look!”
Andrew frowned and pushed him to the side, ignoring his cousin’s insulted screech, and looked outside the window, down to the parking lot beneath him.
Andrew’s eyes widened despite his own will, and then he bolted out the door.
He pushed everyone and everything out of his way, receiving a few insults at his back, and made the way down the stairs in a sprint that would make Wyamck scream at him "Why don't you put this type of effort into practice, Minyard, God damnit". He couldn’t fucking care though. He arrived at the parking lot gasping and a tiny crowd had accumulated at the entrance. He pushed everyone out of his way until he saw it.
Right there before his eyes.
A fucking Maserati Ghibli in all its glory.
Fucking Neil Josten.
Andrew’s knees buckled and then he was kneeling on the ground.
“Fuck,” Andrew gasped.
“Hey, man, you’re Andrew Minyard?” a voice came from his side.
Andrew slowly turned his head to see the giant man standing right beside him. He had dark skin, a trimmed curly hair, and a boyish smile that probably got him all the shes, hes and theys. Who the fuck was this dude anyway?
“Who’s asking?” Andrew asked as he slowly stood up.
“I’m Matt Boyd,” he extended his hand but Andrew just regarded him coolly until the man retracted it. “Yeah, he said you’re a bit of an asshole,” Matt said but chuckled as if it was a joke. “Well, I’m Neil’s secretary. I’m here to deliver this to you. He told me to tell you ‘ here’s your goddamn prove, you fucker ’.”
And why was Matt faking a British accent as he said that last bit, huh?
“Here are the keys and the documentation of this baby,” Matt dumped two keys and a paper paste on his arms. “Take care of her. Neil had to call in a favor to have her here by morning.”
“Oh, my God!” Nicky’s voice screeched somewhere in the tiny crowd but Andrew couldn’t bother. All his eyes could see was the beauty of a car he had right now. Because of his goddamned sugar daddy.
Oh my God, he had a sugar daddy. Oh my God, he had a Maserati Ghibli.
He opened the paper paste and saw that the documents of it were attached by a note made with a messy scrawl: Wanna put this on your name. Send me the info. - Worst Type Of Person
Jesus fucking Christ.
His phone pinged in his pocket.
He struggled to get it out with everything in his arms, but he managed it.
Worst Type Of Person: hope that’s proof enough
Andrew smiled.
~
Andrew got out of his Maserati as the sun shone upon him, the breeze cool enough to spark a shiver down his spine.
It was his birthday today. And today he would meet Neil.
He closed the door with care and locked it with the remote control, making his way across the parking lot.
A month had passed since Neil had gifted him the Mas, and he had proven (to an extent because it hasn’t been that much time, after all) to be true to his word of only wanting Andrew’s friendship in return for the car. Obviously, Andrew was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Neil to use the gifts he kept sending Andrew as leverage to manipulate him in some way. For Neil to start making sex inclined jokes, or to say anything remotely like flirting. For Neil to start demanding things from Andrew even if he had never asked for anything, not even for an answer to his texts. For Neil to do something to contradict himself. But that didn’t come, and in a month of being Neil’s sugar baby, Andrew had received a new iPhone, a Balmain leather jacket (that he was using right now), and 700 dollars to pay for his and his family’s food and bills for the month. And obviously, the Mas. It was much more than Andrew expected it to be, and at some point, he began relaxing a little bit. He started using his new phone to call Neil or facetime, and soon he felt like the man was an actual friend of his. So much that Andrew had agreed to meet with him for coffee today.
Neil had been asking nonstop what Andrew wanted for his birthday, but Andrew legitimately didn’t want anything. He had received a lot from the man in the past weeks, and he didn’t really feel like he wanted anything else. He had his dream car, a luxury jacket, an expensive phone, and he could buy all the fancy cheese he wanted at the supermarket to make his baked goods. What else could a man want?
Still, Neil had insisted that Andrew needed to choose something. And so Andrew suggested they could meet and window shop until Andrew found something he liked.
His sugar daddy had been hesitant at first. He had kept asking if Andrew was sure he wanted to meet him in person, but Andrew didn’t hesitate. He wanted to meet him. It wasn’t like Neil was a danger to him or anything. Andrew had approximately the double of Neil’s mass anyway, and if anything happened, he knew he could kick Neil's ass good and proper. As he said that to Neil, the older man had finally laughed, his crow’s feet showing, and relaxed, agreeing readily to the meeting.
Andrew didn’t feel things when Neil laughed. He didn’t. Never.
Nicky had teased him nonstop when he found out about Neil and his new sugar baby status. But then he had seen a picture of Andrew’s sugar daddy and he began being so insufferable that Andrew threatened to call Erik and expose all Nicky’s secrets to the german.
His brother had been worried when he found out. He had asked time and time again if Andrew was okay or if Neil was doing anything to him, but Andrew’s negative was always loud and clear. Aaron hadn't stopped though, his worry for his brother always lingering, until Andrew had had enough and showed him some of the texts he and Neil exchanged, and after seeing how dumb Neil was, Aaron was tranquilized.
Kevin just didn’t care. He asked if Andrew was ok, and if it would mess with their training schedule and that was that.
The rest of the foxes had tried to ask him or to talk to him about the Mas, the presents, and the new lifestyle of “The Monsters” but he just had stared blankly at them until they gave up.
Being a sugar baby was okay. He and Neil had a mutual understanding, a nice friendship of sorts, and he definitely felt like he deserved the gifts if he were supposed to stand Neil talking about the foxes last match and how well he played and yada yada yada. It wasn’t overbearing though, and dealing with Neil most of the time was something he didn’t mind doing. They talked, they traded insults every day, first thing in the morning, and they listened to each other talk about the most abhorrent things. Andrew sent Neil recipes and pictures about the things he made, and Neil sent him music recommendations, sometimes with a few remarks about the production or something else. It worked. It was simple.
Andrew opened the door of the café they had agreed to meet in and readily got in line. He had arrived early, having come all the way from Palmetto to Columbia to meet Neil, but it wasn’t a chore at all to drive his car. Not at all.
He paid for his sugary drink, picked it, and then sat down on the chair by the window.
He was almost on half of his drink when a person sat on the other side of the table.
When he turned around to see, he almost choked on his frappuccino.
Fuck, Neil was even prettier in person.
“Hello, Andrew,” he smiled.
Fuck, his voice was deeper as well. And that fucking accent. Why did he have a British accent? He was American. He wasn’t supposed to have that fucking accent. It seemed natural, though. It certainly hadn't sounded like that through the phone or facetime.
Shit.
“Hello,” Andrew’s face was impassive. At least he hoped so.
“So,” Neil cleared his throat. “How was your ride?”
“Cut the bullshit, Josten,” Andrew rolled his eyes and slurped on his drink. “You’ve been keeping me out of the office gossip. Tell me everything.”
Neil chuckled and just like that, all the tension dissipated.
~
“Do you like it?” Neil squinted his eyes at the Doc Martens Andrew was trying on.
“Don’t you?” Andrew narrowed his eyes. He was walking around the room, testing the shoe on his feet. It was pretty comfortable.
Neil shrugged.
Andrew rolled his eyes and walked to Neil, stopping a foot away from him.
He looked Neil up and down and smirked lightly. “We’re the same height now.”
Neil smirked back. “You wish.”
“No, look.”
Andrew closed the distance between them. His eyes were directly into Neil’s.
“See?” His smirk grew.
Neil’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah. Plenty. I see a 23-year-old brat. You?”
“A forty-year-old idiot,” Andrew raised his eyebrow.
“Cute of you to think that insults me.”
“Sad of you to think that’s something good.”
“Hello! Sorry to interrupt you two, but does this pair fit well?” The attendee of the store was by their side and wearing a smile, startling both men.
Neil arched an eyebrow at Andrew.
“Yes, it fits,” Andrew turned and walked to sit again on the plush chair, readily starting to take the Doc Martens off when he did. “We’re buying it.”
“Of course we are,” Neil mumbled under his breath.
Andrew stood up and walked to Neil until they were only an inch apart.
“Something to say, Daddy?”
Neil smirked and Andrew must’ve been hallucinating because surely Neil’s eyes hadn’t snapped to his lips. Surely.
“Not at all, baby boy.”
And then he turned around and went to the register to pay for Andrew’s Doc Martens.
Andrew stood there, semi-paralyzed.
Did he?...
No. He hadn't liked that. Of course. Not at all.
Andrew took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Fuck Neil Josten. Fuck his money. Fuck his eyes and his hair and his laugh. Fuck that whole shit.
“Drew,” Neil was by the door with a bag. “Let’s go.”
Andrew cat walked out of the place, his chin held high. He wouldn’t let himself get affected by Neil Josten again. The man was his friend at most, and his bank at lowest. That was all.
“I want new supplies to bake with,” he said as they walked down the sidewalk.
“Sure you do,” Neil was smiling by his side.
“We can go to that store over there,” Andrew pointed to the store on the next corner of the street they were on. “They sell good kitchen equipment.”
“Oh, do they?”
Andrew turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Neil, who had an air of extreme satisfaction coming out of him.
“Problem, Josten?”
“Not at all,” Neil winked playfully at him with a smile.
And just because of that, Andrew made Neil buy the most expensive kitchen set in the store.