Work Text:
One day, Andrew comes home to a quiet apartment. But he knows Neil is home, his shoes neatly tucked against the corner of the entrance. The minute he rounds the corner into the apartment, he sees Neil, sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs straight out in front of him, his chest rising and falling quickly though he's trying not to make any sound. Neil's eyes dart up to his once before darting away.
Andrew steps over him, gently kicking the cats out of his way even though he knows they're like carpet squids, immediately wrapping themselves around his other foot before he even takes a step. Stops at the bathroom momentarily before going into the bedroom and changing into his pajamas. It's fairly early still but he doesn't want to leave the house again. He'll call for delivery if there's nothing in the kitchen. He's not really hungry anyway, having filled up on milkshake and fries while he'd been catching up with Renee.
In the kitchen, he pulls out a glass, hesitates for a moment before putting it back and getting out one of their big plastic cups. Fills it with water. Detours to the living room to grab a pillow before heading back to Neil, who's still on the floor, still borderline hyperventilating. Tosses the pillow onto Neil's thighs before swinging a foot over him and settling down on it. He holds the cup up in offering but Neil just glances at it before looking away.
Andrew shrugs and sets it onto the floor next to them. Neil is staring at Andrew's chest, even though Andrew knows he isn't. He's watching something else play out, some old memory or bad dream. He's been having those a lot lately.
So Andrew hooks a thumb under Neil's chin and turns his face, lays his lips on Neil's cheek. Neil is compliant and pliable but he doesn't react to Andrew's attention.
Andrew doesn't mind. In fact, he rather enjoys it. They go slow, always slow, even their most heated moments have a kind of restraint to them. But that's for him and he knows it. He's ever aware of the way Neil's hands are fisted in his own pockets, the veins in his arms popping out, his entire body trembling with want. But now the slowness is for Neil.
There are different ways to pull people out of panic attacks. Most of the time, it's best to just let them recover on their own. The body can only take so much panic before something clicks and it realizes it's not in any actual danger.
Andrew keeps kissing, softly peppering Neil's cheeks, chin, and forehead before moving on to his neck and the underside of his chin. It doesn't take much to get Neil to tilt his head back, and Andrew can feel the quick pulse under his lips.
He lets his fingers trail down Neil's arms, grips his wrists and pulls them up to his face, kissing the backsides and each knuckle, turning them over so he can kiss the palms and the faint traces of white lines.
When his eyes finally meet Neil's, he finds Neil staring at him, his breathing slow, his chest rising and falling in time with his own. He slips a finger into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around the pad, hollowing out his cheeks.
Neil's other hand cups Andrew's cheek and he pulls his finger out of Andrew's mouth before replacing it with his own lips.
Neil doesn't thank him. Doesn't say anything. Though he does tell Andrew when his legs fall asleep.
Andrew tells him he doesn't care before lifting himself off and holding his hand out to help Neil up. Pulls him to the couch, makes him drink at least half the cup of water before shoving him down and climbing on top of him
This time when Neil's breathing speeds up, it's because of Andrew.