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“Why are we doing this?” Andrew whispers, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Neil, kneeling in front of their couch. Sir and King look past them uninterested.
“According to Wikipedia, a family meeting is a good way to approach the subject of your transition and declaring your pronouns for everyone to hear,” Neil whispers back. King lets out a pitiful meow and gazes longingly towards his food bowl.
“That’s the single stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Neil rolls his eyes. “You always say citing your sources-”
“Not when it’s Wikipedia.”
“Well, according to Quora, Wikipedia isn’t as unreliable as the education system-”
“Stop, stop. I take it back, it got worse,” Andrew laments.
Neil smirks softly at him, and reaches over to entwine their fingers. “Ready?”
Andrew rolls his eyes, “Dumbass. Yes.”
Neil clears his throat, all official. King swats at the tassel on their lone throw pillow that Andrew bought when they first moved into their house as a poor attempt at decorating. “King, Sir, we need to have a family conversation.” He turns to Andrew.
Andrew sighs. He reaches out and pets the cats’ heads and gets sandpaper kisses in return. King makes another protest for food. “My name is Andrew, I use he/him pronouns. You were familiar with me as,” he trails off and Neil squeezes his hand lightly, using his single ounce of perceptiveness properly, “but that’s no longer the case.”
“Okay, that was all, you may go now,” Neil says, and the cats skitter off, as if they had been listening at all. Neil slumps against Andrew’s shoulder, their heads knocking uncomfortably together because Neil has always been taller. “I’m proud of you.”
Andrew wakes up, fleeting memories of coming out to the cats and Neil’s touch still on his mind. Neil is already awake, stripping off his running clothes. His skin glistens with sweat. Andrew slow claps, admiring the view. Their first year sharing a bedroom officially had been filled with averted eyes and whispered check ins, they’re comfortable enough with each other now that Andrew knows he can look. And Neil knows that now is not the time for looking at Andrew, unless he gives him permission. But Neil is endlessly wonderful like that.
Neil looks up from the hamper (small, because there’s one in Andrew’s closet dedicated to his clothes and his clothes alone) and smirks. He does a twirl and flexes needlessly, exposing all hard muscles.
Before Andrew can appreciate the view, their phones go off in sync. They have to be at the stadium early, to meet with their managers. Handlers, as Andrew says.
Neil looks away and Andrew waits. He waits for Neil to look at him and say, I don’t want to support you in this anymore, whatever happens isn’t my problem, you’re on your own. But he doesn’t, he looks back and smiles. “You ready? We’ve got this.”
Andrew sighs. He rubs his hand over his face, his hair is falling on his face, itching his skin and aggravating his mind. “You reached out to other teams right?” He raises an eyebrow.
Neil looks away again, this time sheepishly.
“Neil,” Andrew groans
“I-”
“You’re lucky I did it anyways.”
Neil smiles and approaches. He drops a kiss on Andrew’s forehead, then his cheek. “I would be lost without you, beloved husband.” Andrew’s heart sings. “I’m going to take a shower, join me?”
“You won’t say anything?” Andrew squints up at Neil, whose all blinding hair and eyes. Stupid red and blue.
Neil mimes locking his lips. “Not if you don’t want it,” he says. Then smirks.
Andrew tackles him.
Neil’s hands ground him, sturdy on his shoulders. Holding him in place but not down. He whispers in German, which they had learned together to spite one set of foster parents, You will be okay. I love you. You can do this. You are the strongest man I’ve ever met. Andrew’s heart steadies with every word yet spikes with every step towards the stadium. No one else is there, the parking lot is a ghost town for this time in pre-season.
Andrew’s hair is wound in a crown braid around his head and baggy warm-ups hide his silhouette, but his mind still pulls him in a hundred directions, all of them conflicting and angry and uncomfortable. They’re going to be greeted and he’s going to be called Amy and he-
Neil squeezes his shoulder, digging his thumb into the corner of his neck, snapping him to attention at the staff doors. Andrew didn’t even realize they got there. He takes a deep breath and nods.
They encounter no one until the conference room. Neil says, let me take the lead, which has never, ever, in their history gone well, but Andrew allows it.
“Neil, A-” their manager, Bob, starts to say.
Neil scoffs. Dear lord Andrew doesn’t believe in, they are going to be fired so hard. “If you had read my email at all you would have known not to address my husband by that name anymore. And I know you were going to say it because you’re a fossilized piece of-”
They get fired. It was unavoidable. They couldn’t be stripped of their company cars or parting packages, which infuriated the company after the level of absolute assholish havoc Neil released on them. They settle into their car. Andrew’s the closest to fidgety he ever gets, his fingers jump in his lap on their own accord.
Neil stares at Andrew like he’s something divine, not fleshy human. Then again, Neil wouldn’t look any differently at gold if it was there. “You’re amazing.” He sighs, stares some more. “I love you so un-understandably much. You blow my mind.”
Andrew pushes his palm into Neil’s face and Neil, like a child, licks it. “You are a nuisance.”
Neil beams. “The eternal-”
“Stoppp,” Andrew says, dragging it out with no heat.
“Ready for your hair cut?” Neil asks, knocking Andrew’s hand aside and slipping the Mas into reverse.
Andrew runs his fingers along the familiar ridges of his game hairstyle, the one time it was ever completely up and not hanging down his back in a loose braid. He could probably do it blindfolded at this point. “Yes. Maybe I’ll shave it all off.”
Neil laughs. He barely stops at the stop sign as he leaves the parking lot, but Andrew can’t judge him because he wouldn’t have even blinked at it. “I could have done that at home.”
Andrew flicks his bicep, but lets it go. Neil, needlessly frugal for the amount of money they have, really would have done the haircut himself, but had splurged on an expensive hair stylist who specializes in haircuts that make feminine faces look more masculine. The beauty of being a sports millionaire living in California: random specialists as such.
The car fills with silence, just their breathing and the road sounds.
“So where to?”
Andrew sighs. He links his pinky with Neil’s and looks out the window. The familiar California sights blur by. His entire life has been spent here, trapped in the confines of this state. Sure, Los Angeles is far from Oakland and fairly different, but when he closes his eyes the sun beats on him the same way, the air smells the same. He burns to leave, remake himself and get out. Dig his fingers into Neil and take them somewhere no one is looking. Where it can just be the two of them in their most natural states.
“Hear me out,” he says and Neil laughs, as if he has any preference. “South Carolina has a small college team that’s very…”
“The Foxes?” Yes, that’s one way to get Neil’s attention: exy. “We’re not college students anymore, Drew.”
Andrew hides his smile, letting himself see it in the window reflection, for his eyes only. “Well if you let me finish speaking. You could coach there while I… transition, and then when we’re ready we could join the state team. Maybe the one in Atlanta if South Carolina isn’t good enough for you. ”
Neil hums. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
Neil flicks a glance at Andrew and pairs it with a smile. The car swerves slightly and someone honks at them. Neither of them should ever have been legally allowed to get licenses, yet somehow, completely legally, they do. Neil corrects the car. His pinky tightens around Andrew’s. “No returns, time or place.”
Andrew scoffs, but scoops up Neil’s hand and kisses his pulse point.
Andrew stares at himself in the mirror of the lone bathroom in their apartment, Sir lounging on the counter next to his hairbrush, despite Andrew’s attempts to keep him off. It’s strange, not seeing his hair long enough to touch the middle of his back. His head feels lighter. He moves his head in a slow circle, the wisps of his bangs swaying with the movement.
From the kitchen, there’s a loud crash and Neil, very loudly, swears. Andrew looks in that vicinity in the mirror. “Are you okay?”
Neil swears again. “Yeah. Fine. Fine.”
Andrew rolls his eyes in the mirror, running a hand through his short—perfectly short— hair and leaves the bathroom.
There’s broken glass spewed across the kitchen island and floor. A bottle of whiskey was resting precariously on the edge of the island, contemplating making a similar swan dive onto the tile.
Neil continues cursing under his breath as he carefully picks up glass shards.
“I’m sorry,” someone is saying, “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
Andrew looks over and Jeremy Knox is also standing in the kitchen, looking six shades of appalled and vaguely horrified. Jeremy Knox, Neil’s partner on first string offense for the LA Lynxes. Jeremy Knox, arguably, Andrew’s only other friend on the team.
“What happened?” Andrew asked. He gingerly approaches the kitchen, careful to miss any pieces of glass.
Jeremy looks away from Neil and smiles fractionally. “Hi A-”
Andrew plasters a blank look on his face but before the sting of his deadname can wash over him—
“Oh fucking hell,” Neil cuts off, doubling over out of Andrew’s sight.
Andrew sighs and Jeremy winces. “You stepped on glass didn’t you?”
Neil hisses an affirmative answer and Andrew sighs. “Stay there.”
Neil’s head pops up and the look on his face says he plans on doing anything but staying still. Andrew glares at him. “Stay. Or I give Jeremy full permission to restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself even more.”
Andrew grabs the first pair of flip flops he can reach for both of them, stepping into his as he walks. He tosses them at Neil once he’s in distance, and Neil catches without fully turning in his direction.
“I’m really sorry,” Jeremy is saying. “I shouldn’t have knocked so hard, but-”
Oh, so that’s what startled Neil. “What?” Andrew asks. He steps carefully over the shards, which make delightfully grounding sounds as he approaches the island to lean against it.
Jeremy’s face kitchen back into a state of anxiety, eyebrows raised and lips pressed thin. He waves his phone around. “You didn’t see it yet? You’re trending all over Twitter.” He opens his phone and starts reading, “‘LA based exy stars Amy and Neil Josten are parting from the Lynxes—with no new contracts signed’.”
Andrew bites the inside of his mouth as he pulls out his phone and opens Twitter. Sure enough, his and Neil’s faces are splashed across his timeline, pulled from various games, press events, and red carpet appearances. He wants to gag reading some of them. Everything from pregnancy speculations to rumors of divorce or pressed charges.
“Hey,” Neil says, clicking Andrew’s phone off but leaving it in his hands. Andrew looks up at him and sees thinly veiled frustration and anger in his eyes, but also a pillar of calm and never ending support. “You don’t have to read it. None of it matters.”
“They could ruin your career.” Andrew could care less whether he ever steps foot on another exy court in his life. It has always been a means to an end: out of the system, out of Oakland, into his own home, to make money. But Neil, Neil thrives on exy, lives and breathes it.
Neil’s calloused hands are on Andrew’s cheeks lifting his face ever so slightly. “I don’t care. You’re more important every day.”
Jeremy coos in the background and Andrew remembers they aren’t alone. He leans forwards and whispers, “Don't tell him yet.”
Neil smiles, but Andrew sees the sadness it hides. “I would never.”
Andrew steps away and heaves himself onto a barstool, which are there purely to fill the gap in the island and not for either of them to use. “Yes. We left.”
“We were fired, actually,” Neil adds. He’s somehow procured the broom from the closet and is starting to sweep up the glass. Andrew is willing to bet he hasn’t even pulled the glass out of his foot yet, dumbass.
Andrew rolls his eyes and Jeremy looks horrified. “They fired you? Why? Can they even do that?”
Andrew snorts. “They can if your husband goes off on a twenty minute tangent, heavily insulting everyone from management to the team owner.”
Jeremy shrugs. “Sounds like Neil.”
“Can’t argue with that one,” Neil says cheekily. Andrew flips him off.
“So what are you going to do?” Jeremy worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Maybe San Fran…”
“We’re actually going to take some time to regroup before we take another contract.”
Jeremy perks up at that. “Where?”
“South Carolina.”
“South Carolina?”
Neil laughs and tries to hide it behind a cough, but fails miserably. For someone whose life used to depend so much on subtlety, Neil’s lost his finesse in it. Andrew chooses to like that fact, chooses to interpret it as Neil is finally safe enough to be who he is without any external influence.
“Wow,” Jeremy says, running his fingers through his hair. It glistens in the sun pouring through the big windows behind him. Andrew is still trying to figure out if his hair is naturally like that or bleached, even years later. “Is there anything we can do for you? That I can?”
Andrew shakes his head. His new fringe tickles his forehead. “No. And I’m serious Jeremy. This new phase has to be between us. But you should come visit us once we’re settled in South Carolina.”
“He should?” Neil asks. Andrew gives him a pointed glare. “Oh yeah, he should. You should, Jere.”
Andrew rolls his eyes. Neil often reminds him of a poorly socialized cat.
An alarm goes off on Jeremy’s phone, distracting him momentarily, and Neil swoops in to drop a chaste kiss on Andrew’s forehead.
“I’ve got to go,” Jeremy says, tucking his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “Practice and what not, but seriously, I’m here for you two. I’ll always be on your team.” There’s a dorky smile on his face and Andrew can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Same for you,” Neil says. “Don’t forget about us while you stay in the big city.”
“I could never. You guys are practically my parents.” None of them point out Jeremy is older than Neil and Andrew.
Neil walks Jeremy out, the two of them talking lowly between themselves but Andrew doesn’t care. He slumps over the island, the cool marble biting against his skin.
When Neil comes back in, he takes his time triple checking the locks. “Well, there’s really nothing left for us here now.”
Andrew turns his head just enough to see Neil surveying the house with his hands on his hips. “No, there’s really not.”
“Andrew, wake up, we’re coming up to the state line.”
Andrew groans but opens his eyes in time to see the “Welcome to South Carolina” sign growing nearer, then farther as the speed into the state and their fresh start. “Welcome home,” Andrew says, his voice pitchy from sleep.
Neil smiles at him in the rearview mirror. “Welcome home,” he says with the most obnoxious Southern accent. Andrew laughs and closes his eyes again, content to be on the highway, windows down, Neil’s hand on his thigh.