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It had been two straight weeks of ninety-degree weather in South Carolina, and now the TV was broadcasting an unexpected entire week of rain. Flooding was predicted to affect the area on Tuesday.
Andrew sighed and hit the power button, effectively shutting up both the upcoming evening news ad and the Olympic tennis match Neil was watching.
“I was watching that,” Neil uttered. The couple was lying on opposite ends of the couch, legs and arms sprawled out with box fans blowing at them in an attempt to fight the stifling hot weather.
Andrew gently kicked Neil’s bare foot. “TV’s too loud in this heat. I need a popsicle.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Neil said, standing up and heading to the kitchen. He returned shortly with two strawberry popsicles, handing one off to Andrew before settling back in his seat.
Summer sucked, Andrew had decided. He was having trouble thinking straight (the heat made his brain feel fuzzy), he was sweating everywhere, and now with possible flooding and potential tornado threats, he wouldn’t be able to kill time driving around in the Mas. The only saving grace was that Neil had the Summer Olympics to keep him busy, because there was no way Andrew had the energy—mental or physical—to go play Exy, of all things, in this weather.
All Andrew had was popsicles. And Neil, he supposed. The striker’s head was poised to the ceiling, eyes lazily drifting closed. The last chunk of Neil’s popsicle melted off the stick and fell onto his shirt.
Andrew snorted. “Idiot. Pay attention.”
“Hrrrghh,” Neil eloquently replied. “‘M tired.” He popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth.
With a sigh, Andrew held out his arms, “Come here.” It was way too hot for this, but in recent days Andrew had become embarrassingly soft.
The heat must really be getting to his head.
Neil settled in between Andrew’s legs, the back of his head resting on Andrew’s chest. Immediately Andrew could feel his t-shirt morphing into a second skin and Neil’s body sticking not-so-comfortably to Andrew’s wherever they touched.
“Why did the fish have a bad report card,” Andrew asked in the dryest tone possible.
Neil hummed. He shrugged an answer. “You have to guess,” Andrew said.
Neil didn’t say anything more, but Andrew felt the ever-so-slight head tilt against the fabric of his shirt. Neil’s eyes flicked upwards.
He shoved Neil’s head towards the couch, “No cheating, dumbass,” He held the popsicle stick closer to his face.
“It’s because all of his grades were under ‘C’, duh.”
“Oh, duh,” Neil laughed. Andrew couldn’t see, but he was fairly certain Neil rolled his eyes.
He carelessly plopped the stick on the coffee table behind him and, giving in, wrapped his arms around Neil’s and shut his tired eyes.
------
Andrew and Neil had originally come to the Columbia house early, with the rest of the Monsters joining them a week later for the start of summer break. Andrew knew his peaceful vacation was officially over when he came down stairs one morning—very early in the morning, he might add—to Kevin and Aaron arguing at the kitchen table, and Nicky at the stove, blasting 2010s Teen Pop music in an attempt to drown them out.
The rain had become more and more frequent over the past few days, and though the weather hadn’t ended up having a huge effect on Andrew specifically, he would not be able to say the same about today.
He poured a cup of coffee and made his way outside for a smoke. Neil joined him shortly, their hands clasped together for most of the morning—before their stomachs forced them to go inside and join the chaos.
*
“There’s a tornado warning in our area for the next two hours,” Nicky explained, reading the alert off his phone, “that means we need to take shelter, now, in a place with no windows.”
Neil frowned, taking the last bite of his breakfast, “All of our rooms have windows.”
Nicky grinned, already moving and grabbing battery-powered lanterns from the walkway closet—which Andrew had seriously never seen before in his life—”Neil my dear, I would be honored to take your hiding in a bathroom with your entire family and sometimes with no power or wifi during a tornado virginity.”
“You what now—”
“Tilda never made me do that either,” Aaron chimed in. “But imagine a fifteen year old Andrew and I forced to confine in a small bathroom with Nicky for hours. I think we were ready to put aside our differences just to come together and kill so he’d stop talking.”
“Rude!” Nicky huffed. “Well I may not be your guardian anymore but I’m here, and I’m still the oldest, and I will not have any of you getting injured in a natural disaster because you didn’t take proper shelter! That means you too Kevin,” he called, already walking up the stairs.
***
“Go fish,” Aaron said.
Kevin bent in half and extended his arm in attempts to reach the card pile on the tile floor from his seat on the toilet lid.
Neil and Andrew had claimed the bathtub, laying down towels and spare pillows. Aaron was on the floor, back leaned against the sink cabinets, and Nicky sat against the opposite wall, legs stretched out next to Aaron’s. They’d been sheltering for about an hour so far, and though the tornado looked like it was going to miss their area, the alerts on their phones hadn’t yet lifted.
“Neil, your turn,” Nicky said.
Though the power hadn’t gone out, heavy rain could be heard through the walls of the house with thunder and lightning occasionally accompanying it. Andrew was not one to hold grudges or get mad for petty reasons, but he would remember this the next time Neil claimed he was allergic to technology or said he hadn’t charged his phone or didn’t know where it was. The living room TV had been in a constant state of “on” these past few weeks and just when Andrew thought he might be able to escape men in their forties repeating over and over again just how incredible that relay time was or how amazing an athlete’s ‘comeback’ story was, Neil had brought the Olympic broadcast with him.
Andrew jostled him with his shoulder. “Your turn,” he repeated.
“Sorry,” Neil smiled sheepishly, dropping his phone. “U.S has gotten gold in every swimming race so far,” he said, finishing his turn and placing down a book of Queens.
After two games of cards, Nicky the winner of both, they settled into the quiet, the only sounds being the low music coming out of Kevin’s portable speaker.
Andrew snacked on a bag of goldfish and was pleased Neil kept his phone on silent, only looking down occasionally to read the headlines of ESPN articles as they came in.
The jovial mood continued to dissipate as time went on. Andrew was surprised nobody had tried to leave the bathroom yet, but he supposed no one really had the energy to argue, or the desire to kill the amicable afternoon mood completely.
Neil and Andrew sunk further into the bathtub, the back of their knees resting on the ledge, their heads only barely poking out to see the others. The rain couldn’t be heard anymore; it could have stopped for all they knew. No one checked if the tornado warning was still in place. Nicky had turned off the lights maybe half an hour ago—Andrew wasn't sure just how much time had passed since they’d first come in here.
He was feeling a little hungry, not having eaten a real meal since breakfast, but he figured he could feast when he woke again. For now, he looked down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Neil’s head. “‘Night,” he whispered, not concerned for a moment with who was in the room. Soft. His brain reminded him. You’ve gone soft.
He didn’t have it in him to care.