Work Text:
It started with a fit of insecurity. Truthfully, Andrew couldn't blame Neil for it — there was a benefit to Neil being demisexual, and a large part of that benefit was that Andrew didn't need to worry about anyone else coming into Neil's field of view.
Neil, unfortunately, didn't have that safety blanket.
He hadn't meant to get so worked up over it, Andrew knew. Neil didn't like to be affected by anything, and that included whatever the two of them had going on. It was Andrew's fault, in truth, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for it.
He'd said it was nothing. Over and over again — this is nothing. Neil never seemed to mind, Neil never seemed bothered by it. Really, Neil seemed to understand that it was more of a cop-out for Andrew than an "I don't want this to be anything" situation. He'd said it was nothing, and he'd said it because he was too scared to let it be something.
Neil knew that, but insecurity was always a cruel bastard, and Neil had a lot of that, too.
So okay, it was kind of Andrew's fault. It was his fault for saying it was nothing, it was his fault for not bothering to sort out his feelings about Neil, it was his fault for flirting sarcastically with a guy at the bar when Neil was sitting right next to him.
Andrew hadn't meant anything by that last part, either, but Neil had no way of knowing. Neil was good at reading Andrew, but it usually took time, and apparently the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back didn't get enough time focused on it to understand it. After that sarcastic flirting with some idiot Andrew didn't care to remember the name of, Neil got closed off. Neil got insecure.
Andrew didn't fully understand Neil's insecurity, either. Maybe a part of it was physical — was Neil insecure about his appearance? Andrew didn't see a reason to be, given that the scars made Neil look less like his father, and given that — although not aesthetically pleasing to look at — they looked rather interesting. Neil's face, body, arms... they all told a story. One that Andrew would read over and over again until he died, if only Neil could stand being around him for that long.
Maybe a part of the insecurity was Andrew's apparent willingness to fool around with other men. That wasn't an applicable statement, not really — Andrew had cut off his flings the moment he'd started having any sort of connection with Neil. It was an intentional move, though Andrew still hadn't quite known why he'd been so willing to cut them off at a moment's notice. Maybe it had to do with Neil's eager compliance and lack of complaining. Andrew wouldn't be surprised by that. So Neil, for all intents and purposes, didn't need to be insecure about that. That didn't mean he wasn't, though.
Whatever the reason, Neil was insecure. That insecurity led to discomfort, led to awkwardness, led to hesitation, led to Neil withdrawing right when Andrew wanted to pull him closer. It was infuriating as it was devastating, and Andrew was torn between hitting him in the head to knock some sense into him or kissing him until he finally understood that Andrew wasn't going anywhere.
He didn't do either.
Whether Andrew liked it or not, whether Neil liked it or not, Neil needed to make the first move. Andrew couldn't ask first, Andrew wouldn't ask first.
Eventually, Neil got the guts to say something. It just so happened that it occurred after an Exy match, one in which the opposing team barely scored three points to the Foxes' thirteen.
"You care about me, I know you do. Why do you keep acting like you don't? When are you going to admit that this — we — mean something?"
Andrew was thankful at the very least that Neil waited until the others had left the room.
"I don't care about you," Andrew lied, and Neil raised his eyebrows.
"You don't?" he asked, unimpressed and unbelieving. Fuck you, Josten. "You don't. No, of course you don't, because if you did, you'd shut down the goal just because I asked. If you did, you'd rip everything apart trying to rescue me from my serial killer father after I got kidnapped. If you cared about me, you'd protect me when my mouth gets me into trouble. So of course you don't care, right? Right?"
Hitting Neil in the head was really starting to seem like the better option, Andrew thought. He didn't speak.
"Why? Why won't you let yourself have this?"
Andrew froze. Neil was staring at him now, but his expression wasn't angry, it wasn't insecure or self-pitying, it wasn't jealousy.
No, Neil looked desperate. Not for himself, but for Andrew.
"What makes you think this is what I want?" Andrew asked in return, keeping his tone flat and his expression flatter. "What makes you think you are what I want?"
"Kevin told you he'd give you something to live for," Neil stated, taking a step forward. Andrew didn't step back. "That something, whether he intended it to be or not, is me. I'm stupid, but I'm not blind, Andrew. Human behavior isn't as much of a mystery to me as the rest of you sometimes seem to think it is."
"Get to the point."
"You do shit for me that you don't do for anyone else. You trust me in a way you trust no one else. You talk to me when you don't talk to anybody else, and you tell me things you don't tell anybody else. How is that nothing, Andrew?"
Andrew knew Neil was right, but he couldn't let himself give in so easily. "Because you are nothing, and you always will be nothing."
"And you want me. You want me, Andrew Minyard, and you are allowed to have me. Everyone else gets another shot at having a good life as a Fox. Why not you?"
Why not you. Andrew wanted to hurt him. Andrew wanted to kill him. Andrew wanted to kiss him until it hurt and until it killed them both.
"Stop being so afraid of losing that you don't even try to win," Neil continued, voice softening. His hands reached up to frame Andrew's face without touching, and it made Andrew's chest ache. "This isn't a temporary game to me, Andrew. I'm not running away. I'm not letting you push me away."
So maybe Andrew read it wrong. Maybe it wasn't insecurity, not really. Maybe it was Neil trying to gauge how close Andrew actually wanted to keep him, and refusing to give or take more than was asked.
Maybe that was why Andrew had been so ready to abandon every other man he'd ever toyed with.
"What do you want me to say?" Andrew asked, allowing the barest hints of irritation through his throat. "Do you want me to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, tell you that I've never met someone like you before, say that I don't want to ruin this? I won't give that to you. You are the oxymoron of a temporary addiction that I allow only because you give me something to do in my spare time. The second you stop being useful, I will not hesitate to bury you in the spot I planned so long ago."
Neil didn't seem at all deterred. He didn't move his hands. "Then I guess I'll have to find ways to keep being useful, won't I?"
"Fuck you."
"Maybe someday. You have to keep me alive for that, though."
Andrew really was going to hit him.
Neil smiled a little when Andrew didn't reply, and started to pull his hands away. Andrew didn't hesitate when he grabbed Neil's wrists and held him still.
"I hate you," Andrew reminded him, and Neil nodded.
"You're allowed to have me, Andrew. I want this too."
Andrew didn't have it in him to tell Neil the truth, and he couldn't make himself tell another lie. Instead of doing either, he pulled Neil down those annoying three inches and kissed him like his life depended on it.
In a way, Andrew thought that it did.