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Neil unlocked the door to his dorm, pushed it open, and practically fell into the room. He gave the door a meager shove, not caring enough to check if it actually closed behind him. He staggered forward and had barely reached the couch before collapsing face first onto the cushions.
At some point during Neil’s not-so-quiet entry Andrew had gotten up and opened his door. He now leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, with an almost-smug, almost-admiring look on his face. Not that Neil could see it, of course.
“Was practice that fun? Gee, sorry I missed it,” Andrew said, sounding neither sorry nor enthusiastic. Had he been able to form a coherent sentence, Neil would have asked how Andrew’s session with Bee had gone. Instead Neil grunted a reply, and Andrew moved to the end of the couch where Neil’s feet had landed. He lifted Neil’s legs up, sat down, and pulled the other boy's calves back onto his lap.
“Bee’s been trying to convince me to bring you to a session,” he said as he wrenched off Neil’s shoes, laces still tied. Neil’s reply was once again a grunt, though this one sounded like a question.
“One session three weeks ago I said some things about you, and now she won’t let it go.”
He said it so nonchalantly that Neil almost didn’t register the words in his half asleep state.
But then he did.
“Wait, you said things about me?” With effort, Neil pushed himself up enough that he could flip over onto his back. He had a smirk on his face, which earned him a dirty look from Andrew. Neil’s smirk grew. “What things did you say?”
Andrew looked at Neil’s feet and said nothing. Neil repositioned himself and burrowed further into the couch. Andrew’s hands rested on Neil’s calves, and his thumb was rubbing small circles almost absentmindedly against the material of his athletic pants. Neil noticed, of course, and it made his stomach do a tiny flip. Though Andrew was comfortable touching Neil, it wasn’t often that the physical contact was soft or affectionate. And even though Neil didn’t expect or hope for it to be, he still savoured moments like this.
Finally, Andrew answered. “I told her how much I hated you. You’ve reached one hundred eighteen percent now, by the way,” Neil grinned, and gave Andrew a soft kick.
“Oh, I bet she enjoyed hearing that. What else did you say?” Neil had been wondering if Andrew ever talked about him during his weekly sessions, and now his curiosity was piqued.
“Your feet smell horrendous, do you have a foot fungus or something?” was Andrew’s response. Despite his words he didn’t move Neil’s feet, didn’t move his hands, and continued the thumb circles.
Neil knew Andrew well enough to know when to pry and when to move on, and he knew this was a case for the latter. Andrew had already divulged more than Neil had expected, and his exhaustion outweighed his curiosity.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Neil sighed as he closed his eyes and relaxed even further into the couch. His muscles ached like he’d just run two back-to-back marathons. Which he probably had, actually. Neil inhaled deeply and noticed the faint smell of cigarette smoke; Andrew must have been smoking just before Neil came in. The smell had once reminded Neil of his mother, and of everything he had lost, but now the acrid smell made him think of a new home and a new family. He opened his eyes to look at Andrew, only to find Andrew was already looking at him. The look he wore was less abrasive than usual, and there was something different in his eyes.
“Hey,” Neil said softly, even though Andrew was already looking at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Andrew replied, but neither of them looked away.
They continued to look at each other for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, before Neil’s eyes drifted closed. He was so fucking tired.
“I’m so fucking tired,” he complained, “my legs are probably going to fall off. Are they even attached still? I can’t feel my feet.” Neil stretched out as far as he could, pushing against the arms of the couch with his admittedly gross feet. He let out a noise that definitely could have been categorized as a moan. When he had settled down again, Andrew began exploring Neil’s calf muscles with his thumb. He found a knot and started rubbing it out. Neil’s stomach flipped again; this was new.
“Do you ever stretch? Jesus Christ Neil your muscles are basically one giant knot. Maybe this is why you’re so short.”
Neil didn’t respond, mostly because he couldn’t. If he could have, he would have said something about how he was still taller than Andrew, or maybe that they were the perfect height for making out, but Andrew had started using both hands and was now massaging the entirety of Neil’s lower legs. Neil moaned again when Andrew hit an especially tender spot.
If Neil’s eyes had been open he would have seen Andrew’s small grin. Andrew was glad that he didn’t.
He continued to work out the kinks, and Neil continued to suffer a slow and euphoric death. When had Andrew ever been this careful with anything? All of their kisses, while being heart-stoppingly spectacular, had never been this gentle. Neil was used to intense stares and bruised lips and heavy hands: this was something else entirely. While Neil tried to figure out what to make of this new development, Andrew had moved his hands up, up, up to Neil’s thighs. Neil half groaned half hummed his approval, and Andrew paused. Neil opened his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, indignantly.
“Would you, one day?” Andrew’s hands remained on Neil’s legs, but they were staying agonizingly still.
Neil was still too zonked out from his massage to follow Andrew’s train of thought, but he still pushed himself up on his elbows to look at the other’s face. “Would I what?” He considered, then added “Yes. It’s always going to be yes with you.”
The hands started to move again, and Neil fell back and sighed. Andrew didn’t clarify, but Neil was too preoccupied with with trying not to melt into a puddle right there on the couch to spend any more energy thinking about it. He already knew his answer would be yes, that wasn’t a lie: It was always yes with Andrew, and it was always going to be. Especially right now, with his strong hands currently undoing Neil. At this very moment, he would probably murder if that was what Andrew wanted.
And then he stopped. Again.
Neil looked up, prepared to complain, but before he could say anything Andrew was sliding out from under his legs. He stood up and motioned to the floor. Neil gave him a look. Andrew just waited. Neil dramatically rolled off of the couch and onto his stomach on the floor, unwilling to expend any extra energy in standing up and laying down again. As an afterthought he grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it under his head. He heard a click, and without looking up Neil knew Andrew had locked the door.
A few seconds later Andrew positioned his knees on either side of Neil’s torso, and then his hands were on Neil’s neck. Not moving, just resting.
“Yes or no?”
“Mmmmyesss,” was mumbled into the pillow, and then Neil dissolved.
Neil couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him this nicely. With the intent to soothe and relax rather than hurt or punish. He doubted that anything in his life had made him feel this warm and safe and at home. Andrew’s hands weren’t gentle, nor were they rough; they were a combination that met somewhere in the middle. They were carefully and surely kneading away a lifetime of tension, worry, and fear caused by life on the run. Neil forgot about practice, about the foxes, about running. He forgot about everything. The only details that he could hold onto in his blissed out state of mind were that he was Neil Josten, and Andrew’s hands were on his neck, and this was fine. He was fine. For the first time in his life, Neil really was fine.
He must have drifted off, because all too soon Andrew was lifting his weight off of Neil and standing up and walking too far away, into his room. Neil sat up and felt about a hundred pounds lighter. He stretched and let out a sound that was damn near sacrilegious.
“If you keep making noises like that the rest of the team is going to get the wrong idea,” Andrew said from his room. Neil laughed and dragged himself up off the ground. He took a deep breath in and smelled more smoke; Andrew was perched on his desk beside his screenless window, two lit cigarettes in his hand. Neil said nothing but walked in and hoisted himself up on the desk, taking the cigarette. All of the words had been knocked out of the both of them, apparently, but they were each content to sit and do nothing but inhale smoke and think. Andrew looked out the window; Neil looked at Andrew.
After a while, “Thank you.”
“Don’t say pointless things.”
“I mean it. Andrew, hey,” a pause, then Andrew slid his gaze to the other boy. “Just listen. Thank you. For this, but also for everything.” Andrew waited. “If you want me to, I’ll go see Bee with you.” Another pause. “I’m dying to find out what you say about me to her, anyways.” Andrew nodded and looked back out the window, the strange look that was in his eyes earlier had returned.
Neil’s stomach growled, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was what he did next. Looking back, Neil had no idea why he did what he did, but he certainly didn’t regret it. Just before Neil hopped off of the desk, he leaned over and planted a kiss on Andrew’s forehead. He whipped his head back to glare at Neil, who wore a huge grin on his face.
“I’m going to the dining hall, are you coming?”
“Fuck you,” Andrew said, as he jumped off the desk and slipped on his shoes. “One hundred twenty-five percent.”
Neil said nothing, but bumped his shoulder lovingly into Andrew’s as they walked outside.