Work Text:
Dan was getting a new sweater.
She’d talked Neil around to knitting one for her next, not that it was hard to convince him. Neil seemed to find something enjoyable in knitting, and she was thrilled for him to expand his hobbies. He'd given her a surprised blink and a slow smile before agreeing.
She was going to love the hell out of this sweater.
Dan was going to be a proud new owner of a Neil Josten Original. She’d been longing after Nicky’s rainbow cardigan since he’d gotten it. It was adorable and sassy and Nicky rightfully bragged over it whenever he wore it, which was often.
And then there was Andrew, who had the most comfortable-looking sweater she’d ever laid her eyes on. She’d been obsessed with it, and so had Andrew, judging by how much he wore it. And by how calm he was with it on. She wanted one too—a different style of course, something baggy and cute and perfect.
And she wanted a Neil Josten Original Sweater because Neil got a particular look about him whenever he saw Andrew or Nicky wearing his creations. Something fragile and pleased; wide-eyed with a ghost of a smile on his face. Like he was surprised but so so happy. She’d only caught him knitting a few times, but he always looked at ease as the yarn came together to make something. No tension in his frame, no bad memories behind his eyes: just peaceful and content.
She would eviscerate anyone who took away this fraction of happiness Neil had stumbled upon. All the other Foxes seemed to be on board with that plan, too. Andrew certainly encouraged the knitting. On top of wearing Neil’s creations, she’d caught him watching Neil knit with fascination more than once, eyes clinging on Neil's face and hands. Defended the half finished projects from being touched or unraveled. If Andrew supported it, it must be good for Neil. So Dan was going to aggressively support every stitch he made too.
By getting him to knit her a sweater and proudly wearing it all the time.
She whisked Neil away to a nearby fabric store, very clear about what she wanted. Was even was gracious enough to invite Andrew along, who met her invitation with a flat look and a, “Not a chance.”
Neil had seemed amused rather than offended by the denial and had calmly agreed to come with Dan anyway. He followed along behind her in his quiet way as she walked through the aisles of a fabric store to find the yarn.
“What’s easy to work with?” She asked, when they found a literal wall of colors and types of yarn. She knew enough to understand some yarns were better than others, but not enough to know which ones. Dan was pretty certain Neil would enjoy making the sweater, but she was also asking for a favor. She wanted him to have that happy-focused-content look while making it, not cause him trouble.
He shrugged, unhelpful, “Yarn.”
“Uh, huh, smart-ass. Which yarn?"
His mouth twitched, which meant he was amused, “I can make most of it work.”
Neil liked challenges, would probably never admit one yarn was more difficult than another. Knew it was probably a losing battle to push him for an answer. But she could pick one out and maybe ask a worker if it was good for knitting.
She turned back to the rolls of yarns. There was a rosy-pink color that she liked, and a minty green. Orange was an option, of course, she could wear it on game days for good luck. And during the off-season it would remind her of her team.
“Pink, orange, or green?” She muttered, then considered a soft looking sky blue, “Or... blue?”
Neil eyed the yarns silently, letting her ponder. She liked that about him. Allison always had strong opinions about choices, and Matt always supported whatever she chose, no matter how often she changed her mind. But Neil was… truly neutral. Let her think her opinions through, would listen if she talked, but had no strong ideas about what she should do. Just accepted the decision for what it was. There was freedom in that, Dan thought.
“I like the orange, for the team. But the pastels are calling my name.”
“You can pick multiple.”
“Awfully good of you, son.” A voice interrupted them. She turned to see an older man nodding approvingly at them. Next to her, Neil’s posture had shifted in the way it sometimes did. Something about the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes said: danger.
None of the Foxes were keen on strangers, but Neil most of all.
“Excuse me?” Neil asked, almost politely, turning to put his back to Dan. No—to put himself between her and the man.
“I said its good of you. That you’re here, supporting your girlfriend in finding more feminine hobbies.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Neil said, tone implying he didn’t particularly care either. The man didn’t take the hint.
“It’s the way things should be. I can see by the way she dresses; she needs a more feminine touch.” He said confidently, eyeing Dan’s baggy sweatpants and an old jersey with judgment. “All these kids nowadays are trying to be what they’re not. I say more men like you need to remind their women whats best for them and encourage traditional feminine hobbies.”
Dan was possibly going to commit homicide. Because gender roles were a construct. She could dress however the hell she wanted and still be girly. She could be a goddamn princess in her Exy gear. She could wear a sundress and a flower crown and kick ass. She didn’t need an old bigoted man to tell her shit about being a girl.
And she was going to tell him he could screw right off, when Neil spoke again.
“Oh.” Neil said, tone tightening, “She’s threatening your masculinity. Sorry, that must be really hard, having your ego so fragile that a girl wearing sweatpants makes you uncomfortable. In fact, it must have been difficult to even walk in this store, with how big the chip on your shoulder is. Let me be the first to tell you that your thinking is toxic. She can wear whatever she wants; gender expression is her choice, not yours and not mine.
“She’s allowed to have whatever hobby’s she wants, doesn’t actually need your approval for anything. And she’s the prettiest girl I know, the clothes she likes doesn't change that. But the best part is that she’s here supporting my hobby of knitting, because my choices aren't dictated by gender either. See, I can admit that, because I don’t actually give a shit about your chauvinistic, prejudiced opinions or why you thought you needed to share them with us.”
The man stared, as people tended to do when Neil got snippy. Dan stared too, positively thrilled.
Neil took the silence as an invitation to continue, he tipped his head, “She shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like you telling her what you think is right or wrong. Nobody cares about your opinions and the world would be better if you kept your mouth shut. It perpetuates societal roles that are narrow-minded, biased, and binary. Let people live their lives without imposing your small-minded notions of gender or clothing. I’ll even give you a starting point: knitting is a great hobby for a guy and I enjoy it. The pink yarn is my personal favorite. My boyfriend loves it, too.”
The man’s face contorted and he turned on his heel, retreating without a word.
“Oh. My god.” Dan breathed when the man walked away.
Neil gave her a sheepish look, almost nervous. His voice was hushed and regretful when he said, “Nicky’s been teaching me psychology.”
God bless Nicky. “I want to hug you. Can I hug you?”
“Um.” Neil looked surprised, “Yes.”
Dan pulled him into a tight hug, pleased when he hugged back. Then she pulled away and said firmly, “Its decided, I want the pink yarn. Because feminism.” Because every time she wore it, she’d remember Neil defending her right to decide what she liked, and also him saying Andrew Minyard loved pink.
He looked at her blankly, which she was starting to realize he did when he was feeling unsure, “Alright.”
“And because I’m telling Andrew you said his favorite color was pink.”
Neil’s face flushed, “I meant that he likes the knitting.”
“Of course he likes the knitting.” Dan assured, the whole team liked Neil’s knitting, but Andrew in particular liked it. He wore Neil’s creations all the time and Neil melted every time. Somehow, she imagined that would shock the sexist old man just as much as liking pink. She grinned at Neil, “Apparently, he also loves the color pink.”
“I don’t think he does.” He said, frowning at the colors, “But I… don’t actually know.”
“He does now. It’s happening.” She winked at him, “I’m totally telling him you think I’m pretty too.”
“Okay?”
“He’ll be jealous.” She clarified with a grin, because sometimes Neil missed things, and she wanted to make sure he knew she was teasing.
“Why would he be jealous?” Neil asked, grabbing the pink yarn and rotating it to look at the label.
“Neil,” Dan patted his shoulder, “Because you’re with him. You calling someone else pretty isn’t what he wants to hear.”
“I guess.” He agreed, clearly missing the point. Seemed more interested in the yarn, “This is fine, if you want this one.”
She shook her head, let it go. Neil in a nutshell. “Yes, I love it.”
Neil hesitated, attempted a smile, “You really want me to make you a sweater?”
“Yes, so much.” Dan said, seeing Neil’s hesitant wonder, “In fact, I’d bet every person on this team wants something of yours. You may have created a bit of a trend.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. But only as long as you’re comfortable making things for us.”
“I like it.” He paused, flashed a real smile this time, “Even Aaron?”
Dan snorted, “He might need to be talked around to it.”
“I’m working on his next.” Neil said, a bit of wicked amusement in his eye, “I’ve got some of Nicky’s rainbow yarn left over.”
Dan laughed, threading her arms through Neils as they made their way to the check-out. She wouldn’t have had today go any other way.
Andrew found Neil occupied with Dan. Her legs were slung over his lap while he knitted something in a dusty pink; a new color. He was growing a collection of different yarns, and Andrew was secretly pleased. Neil deserved all the options and choices that he’d never had before.
He looked calm—relaxed and focused on his project, but glancing toward Dan every once and a while as she regaled him with short Exy clips off her phone. Andrew dropped to sit on the beanbag closest to Neil and earned a small smile directed his way. Neil—soft and welcoming. Hands moving slow but sure, yarn threaded through his long fingers.
Happy, Neil was happy. It made him twist with something ridiculous.
“Andrew.” Dan’s voice went serious as she lowered her phone, “I’m so sorry.”
His pleasant mood disappeared quickly, especially when Neil’s eyes widened, and his soft smile twisted. Andrew gave Dan a flat look; warning her not to spoil the positive mood any further.
“I witnessed Neil’s famous temper today.” She said, “He went off on a sexist guy, and I was too amazed to record it for you, which is truly, truly a shame because he was a wonder.”
Neil’s mouth tightened a fraction, a suppressed smile, even as he ducked his head in embarrassment, “S’not that big a deal.”
It was. Andrew would do so many things to see the flash of spark and anger, the quick cutting responses. He was fascinated when Neil fought back. By the fire in his eyes, the tug of a hidden smile on his lips. By the way he never said anything expected, but cut straight and cut deep. Andrew thought it was an absolute shame he missed it.
Dan’s grin widened, “He told the man off. About his fragile masculinity and his ego. About his backwards gender ideals. Neil said he was at the craft store because he loved knitting things for his boyfriend, and that your favorite color was pink.”
Andrew considered Neil’s flushed face, nearly the same soft pink color as the yarn. He liked that. Neil was inherently pretty, but the flush of color was uniquely interesting. He hummed, tapping his cheek so Neil knew what he was talking about, “Pink is good, when it’s on you.”
The flush deepened and Neil blinked at him, always startled by Andrew’s blunt flirtations. Blunt, because Neil never picked up on it when Andrew tried for subtle, despite the fact that Neil read him easily in every other regard. It had taken a blatant come-on for Neil to even realize Andrew was flirting at all. He’d only minimally improved at catching them.
“And I get to see a rare moment of Andrew flirting?” Dan leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, “What a day.”
Andrew did tend to keep things between him and Neil; it was nobody else’s business what he said to him. And Neil rarely ventured toward flirting on his own, unless prompted. Despite being continually surprised whenever Andrew did it, he seemed to like it. Watched Andrew intensely, leaned in, sometimes went so far as to bite his lip.
Andrew was highly interested in his reactions.
“It didn’t quite go like that.” Neil hedged, knitting needles clicking together as he shifted.
“You didn’t tell a sexist guy your boyfriends favorite color was pink?”
Neil considered, “I… guess. But I meant— what is your favorite color?”
Blue,he thought, meeting Neil’s eyes. A very specific shade of blue. “Pink is in the top ten. Figure out the rest yourself.”
Neil’s eyes flashed, lighting up with a challenge. He didn’t push it now, but Andrew knew in the coming days he'd be hearing about it. Looked forward to it. Neil offered a free truth instead, “I like orange.”
“I know.” He said, disappointed, “I question your taste daily.”
Neil huffed a soft breath, amused, “Chose you, didn’t I?”
Andrew was obsessed with this stupid man. Neil chose him. He could have anyone, and yet… Neil chose him with a stubbornness that Andrew occasionally marveled at. Made him soft comforts and respected his boundaries with a stubborn tenacity. Protected him in his actions and his creations and his words. He met Andrew’s eyes now, something in his expression used to make Andrew angry and push him away, because Andrew didn't know what to do with the strength of the emotion. Now he sought out that wholehearted expression, felt himself pulled a little closer each time he saw it.
“I don’t know,” Dan said teasingly, interrupting them. Andrew frowned when Neil’s gaze broke away from his, irritated to have her ruin their moment, “Today Neil said I’m the prettiest girl he knows, so clearly you have competition.”
Funny.
Andrew wasn’t concerned about Neil straying. Neil’s gaze never lingered on anyone else—not the way it did with Andrew. He’d stare, assess, certainly predict threats, but he didn’t oogle. Even with Andrew, he watched his face, eyes, hands, occasionally his body, but never in a way that was leering, just aware and fascinated. Andrew was certain when Neil said 'I don’t swing' he meant it.
So Andrew had to be a little more forward to make his interest clear; they’d worked that out quickly enough. More importantly, it meant that when Neil said ‘chose you, didn’t I?’ it wasn’t a passing flirtation. Whatever Neil liked about Andrew was deeper than looks. He wasn’t likely to stray: he was Andrew’s.
And that was… something important. Andrew wasn’t sure if he’d ever had someone like him for him instead of what he could do. Yet here Neil was, knitting Andrew soft armor that accommodated all his sharp edges. Making space and fighting for Andrew in a way nobody ever cared to before him.
“Pretty.” Neil said, hesitantly, “Is just a fact. Like having brown eyes or bright clothes. It doesn’t mean I want anything from you like that. Or anyone else.”
“Neil, dear, that’s part of the appeal.” She said with a grin, “You don’t have to do anything, but it sure is fun to look. Or, even better, imagine.”
The knitting needles froze, “It is?”
“No.” Andrew said firmly, because the mildly alarmed what did I miss look was crossing Neils face. A shift from content to something uncertain. He glared hard at Dan, “Not for everyone.”
Neil looked over at him, trusting—trusting—his opinion. The hesitation left him slowly, and he shifted a fraction, settling more comfortably before resuming knitting.
Dan wiggled a little closer, “Andrew’s right. If that’s not your thing, that’s fine with us.”
Neil was quiet for a while, their conversation stilling to easy silence. Andrew put the TV on a movie, turning it low and mostly reading the subtitles. Dan resumed the Exy videos on her phone, pulling Neil back into game clips. Neil followed along, nodding, gaze flickering between his laptop, which had knitting instructions, and Dan’s screen. The balance slowly shifted until he was mostly watching Exy, knitting resuming for a few short motions before fading again.
His junkie was content, and Andrew was lightly buzzing from their conversation. The room was comfortable and calm, even with Dan around. He wasn't sure where Kevin and Nicky had gone, but they could stay away. The peace of the evening lulled Andrew into tiredly watching movies instead of doing anything else.
After some time, Dan paused her Exy game and whispered, “Andrew?”
He glanced over, irritated, before realizing Dan was whispering because Neil had fallen asleep on her shoulder, fingers still entangled in his knitting needles. His face was soft in sleep, mouth slightly parted. Andrew was of the opinion that if Neil was sleeping, he should remain sleeping. He raised an eyebrow at her, what do you want me to do about it?
“He’s sleeping.” Dan whispered.
He raised the other eyebrow, “Clearly.”
“What do I do?”
“Don’t move.” He warned with a glare. Because Neil slept less than Andrew did, and seemed to prefer sleeping when others were nearby. Or more specifically, when Andrew was nearby. He napped with his feet under Andrew’s legs, head on his shoulder, with their hands threaded together, or even on opposite ends of the room, nowhere near touching, but still close enough to be near. One notable time on the floor in front of the couch. Neil seemed to find comfort in Andrew’s presence, but this was the first time he’d extended that to someone else.
Dan had been pulled into the circle of Neil’s trust, and Andrew would be damned if she broke it.
She blinked at him, then nodded. She settled a little more into the couch, and Neil shifted in response, leaning more onto her with a soft, sleepy sigh. Andrew liked that sigh.
Time passed, Andrew’s movie ended and another began. He'd sent his one, but didn't bother to change the channel. Let it run until it was late enough that Dan made soft suggestions that she needed to go to bed. Neil was still slumped against her, lax in a way that meant he was sleeping deeply. Dan turned a look to Andrew and silently begged him to wake Neil so she didn’t have to.
She could have skipped the puppy dog look. Andrew wasn’t letting anyone wake Neil up except Andrew. He’d placed a level of trust in Andrew with his sleeping habits, and Andrew wasn’t going to ruin that.
Andrew carefully took the knitting project off his lap and set it on the stand. He was mindful not to displace Neils’ progress. They'd learned quickly not to bother Neil’s projects after Kevin got the sharp end of his disappointment for two days straight after accidentally unravelling part of one. Andrew had seen the real anger and hurt underneath the silence and made sure his projects were the same as when he'd left them.
“Neil.” He muttered, “Let’s go to bed.”
Neil hummed something noncommittal and didn’t move. Dan seemed surprised; Neil was flighty with sleep when he was around others. He rested lightly, sprang awake quickly, and was ready to bolt. Andrew knew better. More and more his rabbit took every opportunity to be tucked in and comfortable when he could. Became lazy, and languid, and slow-moving if he let his guard down.
He hated the way groggy, half-asleep Neil was becoming one of his favorite versions of him. Hated how much he enjoyed the way Neil skipped his morning run in order to curl closer to Andrew, face buried in his pillows and inches away from Andrew.
“Up, Neil.” He prompted, which was ignored, “Yes or no?”
“Mmhm.” He agreed in a slow, tempting hum. That wasn’t good enough: he was certain Neil was still asleep, even if he was answering him. He wasn’t fully aware of what he was agreeing to.
Dan was giving Andrew a horrible face that people made toward babies and dogs when they thought something cute was happening. Andrew ignored it pointedly, refusing to admit that it was cute. “Wake up, Josten.”
“Mmm. Sleep.”
“Sleep in your bed.”
“Kay.” He agreed, unmoved.
Dan made a high noise of pleasure, eyes dancing. She whispered, “Actually, you know what, I don’t really mind staying.”
Andrew gave her a flat look and sharpened his voice, “Neil.” Neil startled, and Andrew was rewarded with tired blue eyes. They assessed him quickly, found nothing to be alarmed over, then started to blink closed again, “Yes or no?”
They popped back open, “Yeah.”
Andrew held his upper arm and lightly tugged, “Up.”
A sigh and a groan of complaint as he shifted off Dan’s shoulder. He offered a low, tired hum and rubbed at his eyes. Andrew held onto his arm—it didn’t look like he intended to move further than sitting up, and letting him go risked Neil leaning back against Dan to sleep.
“I’ve never seen him so…” Dan trailed off, “Soft?”
“He’s ridiculous.” Andrew complained, “You’re pushing a hundred and forty.”
Neil had the audacity to smile at him—pliant and happy that twisted something in Andrew and made him want. “Mmmkay.”
“Go to bed.”
Neil nodded and shifted upright, Andrew tightened his hold on Neil’s arm for a moment. It stalled his progress and earned Andrew a second blink, this one more focused. Andrew considered, rather enjoyed this side of Neil. Almost as much as he enjoyed sassy challenging Neil. Asked in Russian, “My bed. Yes or no?”
Neil was nodding even before the question was voiced, “Yes.”
“Go.” He instructed, letting his hand drop from Neil’s arm.
Dan stood up too, smiling at Andrew, “You’re soft on him.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“But then Neil would be so sad.” Dan pointed out and she was right. Damn. Her grin widened when he didn’t argue, “Its alright, I won’t tell anyone that Neil Josten has Andrew Minyard whipped.”
“Get out.”
“So you can snuggle with soft, sleepy Neil?”
Yes. He glared at her. She gave him a delighted smile and winked when she left. Ridiculous.
Andrew found Neil half asleep in his bed. Was struck by the lack of tension in himself. No undercurrent of anxiety, no memories except good ones. The only thing Andrew felt about Neil being there was a smug satisfaction. And a longing he used to hate, but now was learning to willingly give into. Wanted to have Neil near him in sleep, could admit to himself that waking with Neil was better than waking alone. Liked being able to reach out and brush his fingers against Neil at night, reassuring and warm. Better even than the sweater made by his hands.
Neil’s eyes blinked open, tone a slurred hum, “Still yes?”
“Yes.” Andrew muttered, crawling into bed. Neil shifted fractionally, keeping his distance until Andrew bridged the gap. It settled in his bones; not anger, not fear, but something… good. Neil made a soft noise of happiness that seemed to echo Andrew’s thoughts. The sound tore through Andrew, relaxing any leftover irritation from Dan.
They settled, touching but not much. Enough to draw comfort and heat from one another, fingertips brushing against skin. Neil wiggled, as if burrowing down into the bed, then stilled. Easily back to sleep. Trusting Andrew's nearness.
Andrew memorized his face for the thousandth time. Considered sweaters and Neil and the color pink. Allowed his own eyes to slip shut, and slept.
“It’s done.” Neil proclaimed, needlessly. Over the last few weeks, Dan had been hovering every time his knitting needles came out. Checked the progress of her sweater almost as much as she checked the scores for Exy games. Andrew was clearly annoyed with her being around so often, but Neil was still marveling that someone was excited over what Neil could make.
He very rarely had the experience of bringing others joy before meeting his Foxes. Sort of really liked giving gifts that made his team light up, even more seeing them wear the creations. Andrew, Nicky, Dan. Three of his team, happier because of Neil.
A strange concept, but a good one.
Dan hugged her new sweater close, smiling from ear to ear, “I absolutely love it, thank you! I’m going to wear it tomorrow. And Friday! It’ll be my lucky sweater, blessed by Neil Josten, who will single-handedly dismantled the patriarchy with the color pink.”
Neil smiled, amused, “If anyone takes down the patriarchy, it’ll be you. But I can help, if you want.”
“I’m going to hug you.” She declared, pulling him into a rough hug and patting his back. “And I’m going to try it on. Right now. Then I’m going to show Matt, I need him to be suitably impressed.”
Dan rushed off toward the bathroom calling out loudly from behind the door, “It’s perfect!”
She came back out, soft pink sweater on. It did fit well; he was proud of the work, but was even more proud of the way Dan lit up. She smiled brightly, spun in a circle. “I love it, so so much Neil. Thank you.”
She rushed out of the room, voice rising to explain she was going to find Matt and show off. Neil watched her go, smiling softly. Dan had thanked him for the sweater, but honestly, he felt he should thank her for enjoying it so much. He'd expanded his circle, brought another one of his Foxes into his handmade home, and anchored himself a little more firmly to the people he loved. And she'd smiled.
Neil might have made her happy by knitting a sweater, but he made her whole by accepting it in return.
Andrew came closer, giving Neil a long look that Neil translated as: You encouraged this behavior, and I’m only barely tolerating it. For you.
Neil smiled at him, cheekily said, “I think she liked it.”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed further, but there was no anger in the look. He hovered just out of reach, watching Neil watch him back. he wasn't wearing his sweater today, but that was fine and good, because that meant Andrew didn't need an extra layer of protection against the world. It meant he could lean closer and murmur, “You’re ridiculous. Yes or no?”
Neil was helpless to say anything except, “Yes.”
Andrew pulled him closer, hands on his hips, lips brushing his jaw, and muttered against his skin, “Come to Columbia with me.”
“Sure,” Neil agreed easily; he loved the Columbia house. Like Andrew being in his space even more.
“Just me.”
“Oh.” He pulled back, just enough to see Andrew’s face. Translation: I’m tired of sharing you, I want you all to myself. His smile grew, “Yes, Andrew.”
Andrew abandoned Neil's jaw and found his mouth instead. Neil sank into the kiss for a moment, the press of Andrew's hands, and the taste of him. Pulled away just far enough to ask, "Is it chartruse?"
A huffed breath; Neil had been trying to guess Andrew's favorite color, was having more fun guessing wild color options than actually trying to find the answer. Mostly because Andrew seemed amused by it. "No. Keep guessing."
Neil was granted another slow kiss, felt no rush to guess correctly. He would offer every color to exist if it meant keeping Andrew close just like this. If it meant Neil could see the spark of humor and slight twist of joy to Andrew's mouth when Neil came up with a new one. Was enjoying the slow chase of learning Andrew, inside and out. When he finally guessed the right color, he was going to knit Andrew something in just the right shade of it. But for now, he had a trip to Columbia to prepare for, and a whispered permission to touch.
Neil didn't need anything else.