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It’s not that Neil assumed he’d feel any different as a married man. It was just a piece of paper, after all. He’d signed countless forms and documents and legally binding contracts over the nine years since he’d become Neil Josten for good. But seeing his name scrawled haphazardly alongside Andrew’s impossibly neat cursive on a fancy sheet of thick paper that kind of looked like his college diploma was pretty great.
Still though, in the end, he’d felt the same walking out of the courthouse as he had walking in. He supposed it was because apart from switching to checking the ‘married’ box instead of the ‘single’ one on medical forms, nothing would change. He and Andrew would go on as they had since college, together; partners in everything. They’d left the courthouse and stopped for groceries on the way back to their apartment just outside of the city in Manhattan. A normal day. They’d taken turns pressing each other into the mattress that night, whispers of affection and trust communicated through touch.
They’d planned a trip together during the offseason. Andrew told Neil if he called it a honeymoon one more time that he’d leave him behind and go to overseas on his own; Neil had laughed and kissed him and told him to prove it and good luck on a transatlantic flight alone. Andrew had scowled and pinned him against the kitchen counter and one thing led to another until they’d forgotten the conversation entirely.
They’d spent over a month wandering from country to country, alternating between city-center hostels, country-side AirBnB’s, and lavish hotels (the latter at Andrew’s insistence on requiring one night with a hot bubble bath and plush mattress at least once a week). Neil showed Andrew a few places he remembered from his time on the run, and Andrew made sure Neil left each one with new, better memories painted over the old. They visited new places, but steered clear of England. Neil thought maybe one day he’d be ready to visit his mother’s home country but not this trip, not on his honeymoon with Andrew.
Halfway through their travels they spent several days in Germany with Nicky and Erik, finally meeting the son and daughter they’d adopted the previous year. Andrew and Aaron had even agreed to coordinating the trip for a time when Aaron and Katelyn could fly out too. Aaron had teased Nicky for ending up with a second set of twins to raise; misty-eyed, Nicky had laughed and hugged his one-year-olds tighter, promising his cousins that he’d do his very best to be a good father, since he’d already practiced on Andrew and Aaron.
“It’s easier now that I’m not a single teen mom,” he’d sighed before breaking into a grin that had Aaron and Andrew rolling their eyes in perfect unison. Neil and Katelyn had shared a secret smile. The brothers might have a long way to go but the progress they’d made, in particular post-graduation, was a sight he’d wondered if he’d ever see.
Their last few days they’d spent hopping between Nordic countries, spending their final night under the Northern Lights in a cabin on a tiny island off the coast of Norway. Andrew had held Neil close and kissed his forehead and stroked his scarred knuckles, and Neil understood every word those touches spoke under the glow of a vibrant sky.
Now, Neil’s blissful state met an abrupt end as he exited the bathroom in JFK, hurrying to meet Andrew at baggage claim. Always ready to leave an airport as expediently as possible, Andrew staked out a spot nearest the chute to grab their bags the instant he could reach them.
As Neil passed the last baggage claim area before his own, he heard an unmistakable voice calling out his name.
“Josten? Neil Josten!”
A shiver slithered its way down his spine. He froze for an infinitesimal amount of time before spinning; his cold, PR smile that never quite reached his eyes slotting into place.
“Mike Walsh.” Neil faced a tall, razor thin man with eyes like a hawk and a voice that grated on his every last nerve, as it did most pro exy players. “This is an unfortunate surprise. Why are you here? Hoping to scoop some sort of exclusive gossip on the thrilling travel plans of off-duty athletes?”
Professional exy’s most tenacious national reporter with some sort of personal vendetta for Andrew and Neil, and based to Neil’s endless irritation in New York meaning countless random appearances at his practices and home games (“Kevin doesn’t have to deal with him NEARLY as often we do Andrew!” “Well then move to Houston with Kevin.”), huffed a casual laugh that did nothing to conceal his glittering, attentive eyes. “Come now, Neil. We’re all friends here, let’s be civil. I’m simply returning from a visit to my sister's family in Florida. And you?”
“Traveling.”
“Ah, of course. Hence the appearance at an airport.” Mike Walsh was not so easily deterred. “As it seems you’re returning home, from where, may I ask, were you coming?”
Neil hesitated. It’s not that he and Andrew had ever actively tried to hide their relationship, really. Once they made it onto the same team two years ago and settled roots in New York, slowly but surely their whole team and coaching staff had learned the truth. They wisely kept it to themselves, and apart from the spare asshole making a snide comment during practice every now and then, understood that Neil and Andrew's relationship was not theirs to discuss.
Likewise, the Foxes who remained in the pro athlete world post-college kept it vague when asked about the pair of them and their supposed rivalry. A rivalry born from years of taunting each other in the press during college, of Neil mouthing off his senior year when asked about Andrew’s impressive first-year pro stats. Of the two of them conversing quietly in biting Russian and German when they faced each other on the court after Neil graduated. It’s not their fault no one had ever bothered to listen close enough to translate the inane conversations they’d have.
“You better at least try, Andrew. I missed you!”
“I don’t fucking care, take your shot Josten. But also when are you coming to visit.”
“Two weeks maybe? Hug Sir for me!”
“I will absolutely not do that. Missed again. Better luck next time.”
Mike was waiting for an answer. “I was abroad for a month,” he settled on. “Visiting family, enjoying my offseason. So if that’ll be all, I’d quite like to go home to my cats.”
Mike waved a hand and began to turn away. “Fine fine, I won’t keep you from- well hello. Andrew Minyard, what brings you here?”
Neil hadn’t noticed Andrew come up behind him until Mike spoke. Andrew set down two suitcases and hoisted his backpack further up his shoulder. Neil knew Mike had clocked the suitcases immediately and had a feeling Andrew had come over on purpose. While they never outright lied or denied anything, neither did they confirm. Playing with the media gave them both endless amounts of entertainment and Neil willingly did just about anything that brought Andrew enjoyment.
Mike was eying the two of them curiously as Andrew stared back, unimpressed. “Dare I assume you both came in on the same flight? That’s quite a coincidence. I wonder if your famed rivalry has died out now that you’ve found yourselves on the same team?”
Neil rolled his eyes, a spark of irritation zipping down his spine as he looked up at the man. “Oh, Michael. May I call you Michael? For a nationally known sports reporter you’re truly nothing more than a gossip columnist and regurgitator of stats, are you? A job really anyone could do if you think about it.”
Neil cocked his brow as Mike scoffed and rolled his eyes, the man's professional veneer slipping. He looked over at Andrew, trying to decipher how Andrew wanted to play this. Neil was ready to just leave well enough alone until Andrew, for the briefest moment, turned his eyes to Neil’s. The sparkle in those otherwise bloodshot golden eyes that Neil could spend hours getting lost in stopped his breath in his throat. Andrew listed away, looking disinterestedly over Neil’s shoulder. Neil knew in that moment that Andrew was ready to play.
As Neil shifted to the side to allow Andrew to move closer, Andrew locked eyes with Mike, staring up without so much as a blink. “Yes, by the way. We were on the same flight. Sat next to each other the whole way here if you can believe such a wildly insane coincidence.”
“Really.” Mike’s face now spread into what most saw as his confident on-air smile. Neil saw a shark circling what he thought of as prey, though he knew the man was mistaken as to whom the predator was. “And how was that flight from - Neil, where did you say you flew in from?”
“I didn’t.”
“Of course, of course. Minyard, care to share any of your travel details? Anything about your purported enemy you just spent a long flight seated next to, and who is currently standing right next to you holding a suitcase you carried over to him from an international baggage claim?”
The longer the flight, the more time it took for Andrew to relax afterward. Though to anyone else he appeared as bored and unaffected as ever, Neil knew well the tension between his shoulders and slight set of his jaw wouldn’t fade until they safely walked through their apartment door and Andrew could collapse – dramatically – onto their bed.
Nevertheless, Andrew allowed a mockingly serious look to come across his face and he beckoned with his right pointer finger at the erstwhile reporter.
“Mike. Hey Mikey. Come closer. Do you have your phone or a recording device on you?”
“Ah, no. I just plugged in over there,” Mike jabbed his thumb to wall at his right where a suitcase sat with a phone plugged into the wall outlet by a cord. “Died on the flight, you know how it goes.”
Andrew tsked his tongue. “A shame. You’ll have only your memories of this moment to sustain you.” He stepped closer, forcing Mike to bend his head lower to listen. “Do you want to know why Josten and I were really on a flight together? The truth?”
Neil, guessing where Andrew was going with this, was barely holding it together. When Andrew pulled out his phone and opened the photos app, Neil pressed his lips together to ward off a gleeful smirk. Andrew held the phone, photo on display just out of Mike’s line of sight as he leaned closer, speaking in a stage whisper.
“The truth is, Mike - the truth is, this idiot and I were on our honeymoon. Just back from a month abroad. We explored several countries and a wonderful time was had by all parties involved.”
Before Mike could express his disbelief, Andrew held up his phone. On the display was a photo of Neil standing in front of the Eiffel Tour, the perfect picture of a grinning tourist, thumbs up and all. Neil choked on a laugh as Andrew hit delete. Another photo appeared. Neil, looking out over a grassy meadow at sunset with a city Neil remembered to be Stockholm in the far distance. Delete.
Neil chanced a glance up at Mike’s face which was every bit as disbelieving and incredulous as he expected. Neil wanted to play, too.
“It’s all true, Michael,” intoned Neil seriously. “This asshole is my husband and I had an ever so lovely time on our honeymoon with him.” he turned to Andrew with a grin. “See Andrew, I told you it’s more fun when you call it what it is.”
He held up his own phone into the face of a dumbstruck Mike Walsh, hands now hanging loosely at his sides, mouth partially agape. On Neil’s screen was a blurry but unmistakable short blonde man scowling, giving the camera the finger as he stood in front of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin next to a beaming Nicky. Neil fumbled for a moment before finding the delete button, which he pressed with a flourish.
“Dumbass,” muttered Andrew in what Neil knew to be his affectionate tone.
“You love it,” he shot back. Up next in Neil’s camera roll was a selfie of Neil pressing a kiss to the cheek of a red-faced, tipsy-looking Andrew. Neil gazed at it fondly.
Andrew’s sigh was loud and dramatic. “Hm. Unfortunately.” Decidedly less affectionate was his tone as he crossed his arms and told Mike, “You may send your well wishes to our PO boxes. Donations in our honor may be made at any number of the charities we support; a full listing of which can be easily found online.”
“Wh- how...” Mike suddenly found his voice, wiping his hands helplessly on his jeans, “Why are you telling me this?”
Andrew took one final step forward and grabbed Mike’s jacket to bring him down to his level.
“Because it’s true,” started Andrew slowly, voice deadly serious as he drew out the initial words before clipping out the following. “But no one. Will ever. Believe you.”
Mike’s eyes grew wide, suddenly casting about wildly for his phone. “Oh my god, oh my god how-”
With a light shove, Andrew let go of Mike. He stumbled into the wall, suddenly groping to his right for his phone. “I’ll break this story,” he shouted a little bit desperately. “You can’t keep hiding this forever.”
It was too late. Andrew turned with a departing two-finger salute as he Neil stepped through the arrivals exit. Neil glanced back with a smirk and a wave, gabbing Andrew’s hand and lacing their fingers together.
“Who said anything about hiding? Bye bye Mike! See you at training camp! We’ll tell our cats all about y-” the automatic doors sealed shut behind him. Mike was left standing, staring open-mouthed, spewing curses at the small retreating figures as he attracted the curious gazes of passersby. His phone dangled ineffectually by his knees as he clutched the charge cord in his hand.
“Well! That was fun! I’m glad we both have copies of those pictures though,” quipped Neil as they stepped off the transport bus into the long-term parking lot, headed for their car. “Think anything’ll come of it?”
Andrew fished his keys from the front pocket of his suitcase and popped the trunk. “Nah. He’s got zero proof, and despite his affinity for tabloid-level drama surrounding the athletes he commentates on, he wants to be taken seriously. He’d never report anything based on hearsay. I have no doubt he’ll start desperately culling through our old interviews and records and start trying to piece something together in the next couple months.”
“You know...” Neil paused as he heaved his suitcase into the trunk and slammed it shut. “Could be fun to pull the ability to ever do an exclusive scoop on this from him.”
Andrew was silent as they both slide into their seats and closed the doors. “What do you mean.”
“Like, I know the whole rivalry thing has been fun and all, but what if we just, tell people.”
Neil watched as Andrew thought quietly, pulling out of the lot toward the access road. “Are you ready for that? For people to know? To answer questions about your sexuality and have people dissect everything and be called ‘queer icons’ or some shit?”
Neil laughed. “Everyone important in my life has known for years. Who cares about the rest? The question is, are you ready?” He softened his voice. “It’s okay if not. I like how things are. Just thought it might be nice if the rest of the world knew. I’m not going anywhere either way.”
Andrew kept his eyes on the road, but his hand slowly slid over and reached for Neil’s knee. “You better stay, Abram, that’s why I fucking married you." He paused. "Yes. I’ll tell anyone you want about how much I hate you.”
Turning Andrew’s hand over and ghosting a finger along Andrew’s palm, tracing his lifeline, Neil settled back into his seat as they hit the inevitable traffic. “Give ol’ Mikey some time to build his case, have some of our sports contacts keep us posted on what he's up to before we pull the rug out from under him?”
“Steal the bastard’s thunder. I’m in.”
Two Months Later
Neil, still flushed with adrenaline, perched on the edge of his seat at a post-game press conference next to Andrew. Their team had been playing like a finely tuned machine; they were the early favorites for finals this year. Neil was gunning for that championship trophy and reporters were throwing questions left and right at the players. Andrew sat, quietly observing. In the back of the room was one Mike Walsh, steadfastly ignoring Neil and Andrew and focusing his questions toward their captain.
Standing to leave after the last question had been fielded, Neil leaned forward into the mic. He saw his captain visibly tense. For all his media training, Neil was still a wildcard when it came to giving interviews, all these years later. “Hey, Mike Walsh. ESPN guy or whatever. How’s that little project of yours coming? Any timelines or visual aids yet? We’ve been waiting with bated breath for your big presentation, what’s taking so long?”
Mike had jerked up at the sound of his name but regarded Neil coolly. “Thank you for your interest, Mr. Josten,” he replied smoothly, covering well. “You and your teammate will be pleased to know things are progressing well. Expect to hear from me very soon.”
Neil hummed noncommittally in response and smiled innocently. Beside him, Andrew snorted.
Later that night, Neil and Andrew sat on the couch together after dinner, ready to hit play on a movie. Simultaneously they opened Instagram and a few minutes later, clicked to post. With a wild grin, Neil dropped his phone and grabbed the remote, looking over at an amused Andrew. “No going back now.”
“No going back now,” Andrew agreed, tossing his phone to the side and pulling the redhead in to press a kiss into the messy mop of curls.
[Instagram image description: a slightly dark and off-center – and not in the artsy way that Andrew likes – selfie of Neil and Andrew, with the Northern Lights in the sky behind them. Neil is leaning against a wooden railing and has an arm draped around Andrew’s neck. Andrew is not smiling but his face is noticeably softer than the public is accustom to seeing, and he is clearly leaning into the touch with his hand holding onto the fingers of the hand Neil has hanging down his shoulder.]
NeilJosten Hey @AndrewMinyard remember when we saw the Northern Lights on our honeymoon that was cool
AndrewMinyard if i'd have known how much you fucking suck at taking pictures i would have never bothered to buy you that camera. also don’t call it a honeymoon.
NeilJosten @AndrewMinyard What else would you call the vacation two people take after they get married? [two kissing face emojis]
[Instagram image description: what appears to be a gray carpeted living room floor streaked with golden-hour sunlight. Scattered on the floor are several cat toys and a pair of well made, but well-worn, running shoes clearly kicked off haphazardly in the middle of the room that Andrew absolutely did not rearrange to look more aesthetically pleasing for his photo. On the wall in the slightly blurred but still visible background are two framed jerseys from Palmetto State University, unmistakably reading Josten 10 and Minyard 03.]
AndrewMinyard for the hundredth time, pick up your shoes before i throw them off the balcony. and clean up after your cats. @NeilJosten
NeilJosten I think you mean OUR cats
AndrewMinyard if anyone has recommendations for a good divorce attorney, dm me.
NeilJosten @AndrewMinyard Wow. So this is how it ends
AndrewMinyard @NeilJosten can you bring me the ice cream i just bought. the fudge brownie one.