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The only reason Kathy Ferdinand didn’t have more than seventeen restraining orders filed against her was that Andrew considered knives a more useful deterrent than a court order. He was right in the way Andrew tended to be, the sort of ‘don’t try this at home’ methodology most people thankfully took to heart. Neil wasn’t most people.
Kevin had borne witness to Kathy’s Minyard-Josten obsession. Since Andrew first called Neil a deplorable waste of space in a post-game interview, the press had latched on to the tension between the best goalie Exy had ever seen and the mouthiest striker. Their error was in assuming the tension wasn’t sexual.
Kathy’s campaign to get Neil and Andrew in the same room with microphones that weren’t water-damaged had, after six months of desperate and vaguely illegal attempts, come to fruition. Kevin had planned to be as far away as possible from the fallout, but the morning of the interview his team had so graciously surprised him with tickets and a ride.
Kevin was very good at feigning gratitude, but he didn’t have the same success with faking an illness. It was Aaron’s fault. Ex-teammates don’t leave ex-teammates on read.
By the time Kevin was awake enough to realize the Exy road trip was to see the interview rather than test out their new racquets (which weren’t even in the car) they were already going seventy miles per hour down the highway. Kevin, no matter how often Andrew liked to compare them to their detriment, wasn’t Neil.
He wasn’t drunk enough to jump out of the car. Four shots of vodka could make the possibility more likely, but he was thirteen months into sobriety and vodka wasn’t usually kept under car seats. He still checked.
Somehow, he managed to miss that the tickets were for the front row until an uncomfortably curious security guard pointed them out. Kevin Day fans were good for gas station getaways, not for going unnoticed in public. Luckily, while they stopped at a gas station to refuel Kevin made a few purchases to assist in that regard.
A hat, sunglasses, and a bandage over his tattoo weren’t the best disguise but they were pretty good for fifteen dollars and six minutes worth of effort. They held up better than expected and he had almost convinced himself he would pass the day undiscovered. Then Neil walked in.
Paranoia lingered beneath Neil’s every glance, a habit that would never truly die. Andrew was much the same, but Andrew wasn’t there to do his I’m not laughing but you look ridiculous eyebrow raise so Kevin only got one set of judgmental glances.
Neil had been making one-sided conversation with him since he had sat on the couch fourteen minutes ago, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s flirting until one of her stagehands practically begged her to stop trying.
Kevin hadn’t told either Neil or Andrew that he would be there and he knew his teammates didn’t have their numbers. Still, Neil didn’t look surprised. Kevin had a sinking suspicion about where exactly those last-minute tickets had come from.
It didn’t matter.
If he ignored Neil long enough, Neil’s Andrew obsession dictated his attention would shift to Kathy’s Andrew-centric panic. One of her two guests being missing wasn’t the best look and Kathy didn’t handle uncertainty well. Perhaps this was their twisted sort of revenge. Andrew certainly knew how to hold a grudge.
For two people who always seemed to fall into each other’s orbit with ease, the seat on the too-small couch next to Neil was empty. Neil was perfectly on time for once while Andrew was mysteriously absent. Kevin had known them both too long to think that was a good thing.
Twenty minutes past the proposed start time Kathy stood up as if to join her crew members’ search when a man from a few rows back in the audience tossed his empty milkshake cup in the trash and began a slow ascent up the short staircase to the stage. Kevin laughed humorously as the dealer to his right let out a “holy shit!”
Security didn’t stop him. Even if Andrew was twenty minutes late and probably not following security procedures, he was still supposed to be there and Kathy still looked ready to stab anyone who dragged her precious start time out further with her perfectly manicured nails.
Kathy stood up and smiled, outstretching her hand for a greeting Andrew ignored. One long glance toward the audience had her reconsidering any of her more violent inclinations. It was for the best. Andrew and Neil would have made a competition of who could tear her to shreds faster.
Suppressed rage was an awful but familiar look on her, but when Andrew sat with only a few inches between him and Neil she lit up again. With only one couch, Kevin wasn’t sure what she expected, Andrew to sit on the fucking floor?
Andrew leaned back into orange cushions and closed his eyes like he was attempting to sleep. Kevin would usually label it dramatics—and it was—but with Neil there anything was possible.
Kathy laughed nervously and signaled for the recording to start before one of her guests left the waking world.
Neil tapped the couch once on the side close to Andrew and his eyes cracked open. Neil tilted his head to meet Andrew’s gaze and gave him the slightest of nods. Even as Kathy began to say her intro, neither Neil nor Andrew broke eye contact.
“They totally want to kill each other,” the backliner to Kevin’s left said with misplaced confidence.
Andrew’s gaze darted down purposefully to Neil’s lips. Neil made a move that mimicked stretching and grazed his fingers against Andrew’s hair, a move that Andrew leaned into unbeknownst to every member of the audience sans Kevin.
Andrew met Kevin’s gaze and his hand lifted in a half-mocking wave.
Kevin already wanted to scream.
He should have jumped out of the car, locked himself in the gas station and claimed he was being kidnapped, and heated up a damp towel to fake sick even when Aaron’s shitty advice said otherwise because this was the most torturous moment of Kevin’s life. He should have turned down the ticket no matter the bribery or threats he received.
Nothing good would come from being in the same city as Andrew and Neil when they wanted to cause trouble. At least this time he hoped the public setting would keep the number of crimes committed to a number that wouldn’t make Wymack call Kevin as if he was expected to have some sort of leverage.
Neil was the only person with the magical power of asking; Andrew would laugh in Kevin’s face if he tried. Kevin totally didn’t know that from experience. Totally.
Kevin would never admit that a part of him didn’t protest because he wanted to see them. Different teams meant different cities and travel times that made the rhythm they had carved out in college untenable.
The chance to see them both was an idea he was warming up to—a coping mechanism, surely—even if it meant seeing this: Andrew tapping out a pattern on Neil’s thigh, Neil half-heartedly swatting his attempts away, and Kathy fumbling her way through the interview like stalking hotel rooms and bribing the bellhop was easier than doing her actual job.
Her first question Kevin tuned in enough to hear was to Andrew. It was a desperate grasp for the target least likely to cause her to break down in front of the live audience. Asking Neil anything took a bit more strength than Andrew’s unplanned entrance had left her with given his reporter reputation, but she should have known by now that Andrew wasn’t a better choice.
“I’m sure we all know by now you used to play on the same team back in college.” She turned to the audience and waited on affirmative noises before continuing. “Andrew, what was your perception of Neil back then?”
“He was a problem.” Andrew met Neil’s eyes even as he answered her. “He has yet to make any improvements on that front.”
“Were you ever friends?”
“I loathe him,” Andrew said, a non-answer if there ever was one. With effort, Neil’s lips twitched away from what Kevin knew to be a smile.
Andrew’s arm, once slung over the back of the couch, made its way closer to Neil’s neck. Neil reclined back further so that Andrew’s palm slotted against his neck.
The couch was small but it wasn't that fucking small.
Kathy nodded along to whatever else Andrew had said while Kevin was watching their display. Some of the crew members gave their proximity suspicious glances like they expected Andrew to strangle Neil on national television.
This was a game to them. One of their twisted competitions that was far less enjoyable when it wasn’t on an Exy court. This was like when they had attempted to outdo each other in lock picking and theft, breaking into everything from the court to Wymack’s liquor cabinet until Neil took the Maserati for a joy ride without keys. Kevin hadn’t seen them for several hours after that happened. He preferred not to think about why.
Barely within Kevin’s vision, Andrew held up two fingers that he inclined toward himself. Neil shook his head and whispered, “for now.”
Pairing up on the striker line and dorm assignments left Kevin the second-best Neil-reader. That was both a response to Andrew’s answer and an indication that Andrew was winning whatever game they had decided to play. For now.
Kevin usually liked it when Neil got competitive. Now he wished he had slipped a sleeping pill into his Kathy-provided water bottle. Who cared about legality? Not Kevin.
“How did you two first meet?”
Andrew said, with a casualness his words didn’t imply, “I hit him in the gut with a racquet. Against my best wishes, there were no broken ribs. What a shame. Target practice improves aim and Neil volunteered.”
“I did?” Neil questioned, looking as amused as the staff member to Kathy’s left was horrified.
“You signed.”
Neil inclined his head as if awarding Andrew another point.
“A joke from Andrew Minyard? Never thought I’d live to see the day,” Kathy laughed and turned to the audience where her reaction was, for the most part, mimicked. “But no, really, how did you meet?”
The only thing that betrayed her nerves was the strain on her smile the longer she went unanswered.
It was more likely that Neil took Andrew’s silence as some sort of cue than he was trying to spare Kathy from her bout of uncomfortability. “He took my breath away.”
Kathy’s smile froze on her face, more strained than she intended. Kevin tucked his face between his palms and tried to stifle his laughter.
“You shut up for once. For a little while, at least,” Andrew commented.
“It seems you’ve begun to favor other methods now.” Neil’s grin was cheeky. Andrew flicked the back of his head in reproach, but Neil didn’t seem to care.
If anything, Neil looked even more enamored though a casual observer might mistake his interest for disgust. Resting Bitch Face had nothing on Resting Neil Face.
Andrew’s gaze ducked to Neil’s lips again before he jolted back, betrayed by his own impulses. His hand fell away from Neil’s neck and he ignored the amused look the striker sent him in return. Petty bastard.
“Wymack was less than thrilled,” Andrew added like either of them cared about that.
“I thought it was above his pay grade,” Neil cut in.
Wymack wasn’t in the audience but Kevin swore he could hear his voice saying God damn it, Josten.
“Next question!” Kathy announced unceremoniously upon remembering she was the one supposed to be in control of this interview.
Kevin felt zero sympathy for her.
As the person who both sicced Riko on him and got Neil discovered, albeit inadvertently, it was a miracle she was even alive. Neither Andrew nor Neil was the type for forgiveness and there were a few too many times over the years he heard something like I didn’t know anything, officer, I swear! paired with an alibi dependent on the other for him to play the oblivious card.
Kevin was priority-driven, not stupid.
Kathy looked out toward the audience. “Last week, Neil was confirmed to be the Sharks’ new captain in this upcoming season. During your time at Palmetto, you were named captain, correct?”
Neil nodded and almost grinned when she didn’t risk giving him the chance to speak. “Andrew, seeing as you were a member of the Foxes during Neil’s captaincy, what should we be looking forward to?”
“Neil,” Andrew stated like that one word answered everything.
When he didn’t continue, Kathy restated the question. Andrew met her gaze and didn’t say a word. Neil appeared to be enjoying how unsettled she was more than trying his hand at their makeshift game.
After a very uncomfortable thirty seconds in which several of Kevin’s teammates succumbed to nervous laughter, she moved on. “What advice would you give to someone starting Exy?”
Andrew slanted a pointed look at Kevin.
“Don’t.”
“Okay, so what do you want to say to all the kids you’ve inspired to become exy players?” Kathy tried again.
Andrew considered her with an air of faint disdain. “My condolences. It’s not too late to turn back.
Trying for another easy question, she asked, “What are the key qualities to succeed in your sport?”
“Proper motivation.” This time Andrew’s gaze lingered heavily on Neil.
“Could you elaborate?” Kathy asked, tapping her foot against the ground in lieu of shattering her patient facade.
“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” Neil replied, almost scolding. He half-pushed the microphone away from his mouth and leaned in conspiratorially. “But sure—”
Andrew slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his next words. A few seconds later he dropped it away with his warning made clear by whatever he whispered in Neil's ear. Kevin looked at the ceiling in an effort to avoid accidentally reading their lips.
A man in the row behind looked at his tattoo and his mouth fell open. “You know them, right?”
“Unfortunately,” Kevin replied.
“Whenever you have a match up against each other how do you keep the tension solely on the court–”
“We don’t,” Neil supplied. “I thought reporters were supposed to do research.”
“This is an interview,” Kathy said, sounding uncertain. “I’m a show host.”
“Sure.” Neil didn’t sound convinced.
Andrew continued on before Kathy switched topics. “There’s more effective ways to work out the tension. If he’s in game shape by the time the next one comes around, who cares?”
Kevin doubted Andree was referring to the type of injury Kathy was inferring. Their gear wasn’t the best for covering up hickeys.
The person behind him who still hadn’t introduced themself despite their clear staring problem gasped. Bored of waiting, Kevin assigned them the name John.
“Andrew looks at Neil like he wants to murder him,” John said.
“Look, John–”
“That’s not my name.”
“John,” Kevin repeated. “Do you speak French?”
“No,” John said, looking confused. “Did they hate each other this much when you were on the Foxes?”
“Yes, but rather than stab him Andrew would prefer to drop to his knees in a closet and do things to him that I didn’t possess good enough noise-canceling headphones to block out. We shared a locker room. And a dorm room. You don’t know what I’ve seen, John. I wish it was murder,” Kevin said in French.
“What?” John asked.
Kevin ignored him.
Kathy shifted the pillow under her arm slightly and Kevin caught a glimpse of a lined sheet of paper before she rearranged the couch to cover it. “How do you balance Exy with your other life commitments?”
Andrew looked at Neil like he wanted to dangle him off a cliff. “Exy has a way of getting everywhere.”
“Exy has its uses outside of the Court,” Neil interjected.
“No one wants to hear about your running side job.”
“You’re a runner?” Kathy asked. “Well, you are pretty fast on the court. Fourth fastest recruit, right?”
“The fastest,” Kevin corrected quietly.
Neil gazed at Andrew instead of replying to her questions. Even if her assumption had some truth to it, he hadn’t been talking about running. Kevin wished he didn’t know that.
“You must have been friends at one point,” Kathy stated, attempting to regain control over the situation.
Andrew made a show of glancing at Neil and turning away. “He’s nothing to me.”
Kathy looked at Neil, tired enough of dealing with Andrew to chance the more volatile option.
“I’m nothing,” Neil added like those words should have explained everything. “If you’re planning to actually do an interview properly now, does this mean I get a question?”
“That’s a little rude,” Kathy commented, thrown off by his bluntness.
Neil wasn’t cowed by her critique. “I’ve got a bit of an attitude problem, don’t you remember?”
Kathy looked like she was having war flashbacks. She shook her head a few times and focused on a spot slightly to the side of Neil’s face to create the illusion she could meet his eyes.
“How do you prepare mentally for head-to-head matches with each other?”
Neil thought over his answer for a moment, hand shifting closer to Andrew’s. “I go to his hotel room as an intimidation tactic and bring him breakfast.”
“Is it poisoned?” Kathy asked, half joking.
Neil looked thoughtful. “Good idea.”
Kathy couldn’t tell if he was joking and the fear that flashed over her face made an interesting scene. Andrew slid his fingers through Neil’s. If the slight uptick of his lips wasn’t a trick of the eye, he might even be entertained.
Kathy leaned away from her microphone and directed her inquiry to someone waiting offstage. “Would I be an accessory to—”
“I’m kidding,” Neil assured her.
“He’s not,” Andrew added, looking remarkably unconcerned about the potential arsenic content of his food.
Kathy moved on with a small glance off stage, exposing the earpiece she kept in. She nodded at whatever was said.
“To be honest, last time we had you I didn’t expect we would meet like this so soon. With the Foxes’ record and everything that happened during your first season, the success of the Foxes was unprecedented,” Kathy said. “What legacy do you want to leave?”
"This isn’t going to go the way you want it,” Andrew said, leaning back further as if waiting for one of those musicals he watched with Bee to begin.
Kathy didn’t heed his warning as Neil thought around his answer.
“There isn’t a blueprint for success. We both know what you want me to say. You liked your comeback story before but now you want to call us difficult. It was on the little handout you gave us. That was fun to shred.”
Kathy’s eyes grew distant, someone chattering away in her earpiece.
“I’m here because of the Foxes. You don't need to fit some standard to succeed. Be violent, it helps. Yes, I can say that. I was a Fox. Am a Fox. It isn't the sort of thing that goes away.”
Kathy nodded. “Now, I’ve never said the Foxes’ controversial methods didn’t have their merit.”
Neil didn’t buy her bout of defensiveness. “You wrote us off too, didn't you? I remember. You can count us out and seal it up with whatever new over-alliterated headline you've already got prepped over there, but we aren't our files.”
“Stats are important,” Kathy said. “You got offered a spot on the Foxes because of your stats.”
“No, my stats were abysmal,” Neil corrected. “I joined the Foxes because my coach sent my tapes out behind my back and they saw something there. If you want to know about that, you should’ve asked for Kevin. I’m not nearly so polite.”
The backliner at Kevin’s side laughed. “Clearly.”
“We fight because we don't know how to do anything else. That's what you need to win. I don't want my legact to be some sanitized lie you can sell as a heavily fabricated inspiration story. I got kidnapped before my championship game on a team that barely had enough players to play or enough camaraderie to survive the year, but we fucking won. Beat the Ravens. Impressive, right?”
Neil paused, providing Kathy the opportunity to speak, but she didn’t take it.
"We're here so you can do what, make us fight? Grow up.” Neil leaned back and asked Andrew, “How much longer do I have to be here?"
"You don't,” Andrew said.
A quick glance at the clock told Kevin there were still at least fifteen minutes left. No one cared.
“Andrew?” Kathy tried.
Andrew stood up and ignored her in favor of staring down Neil. “Pick a number.”
Neil grinned, far more real than the plastic smile Kathy had pasted on. “Zero.”
“I hate you.”
“What is that?” Kathy questioned, referring to the number.
“My answer,” Andrew replied, walking off the stage without a glance back.
Neil stood up to follow after him and the collar of his shirt was jostled, exposing a dark spot that could have been mistaken for a casualty of Exy or clumsiness. Injuries were common in a sport that thrived on violence, especially with someone who ran their mouth as much as Neil did.
It could have been nothing.
Kevin knew it wasn’t.
“Oh, wow, Andrew must really hate him,” John stage whispered once the audience began to war between waiting to see if anything else happened and leaving.
“That was practically a marriage declaration,” Kevin said in French.
Kevin discarded the badge he had been given at the start of the show by handing it off to a teammate. The moment it left his hand, John half-lunged over the seat to grab it.
Kathy’s attention swung over to the commotion and Kevin left before she noticed him. He hadn’t been avoiding her emails to give up his avoidance now.
Later, after Andrew and Neil had broken into his apartment because the lock-picking practice was more enticing than taking the key Kevin offered them, Neil’s bruise had been given several other companions trailing up his neck.
“Did you really have to do that?” Kevin asked, exasperated.
Neil bit his lip, eyes sparking with the same sort of wildfire that had Kevin flying out to recruit a nobody out in Millport. He moved to reply but Andrew shut him up with a kiss.
When Andrew pulled back, he finally decided to grant Kevin his attention and his answer.
“Yes.”