Work Text:
“We have a placement.”
Neil shot up, his free hand gripping the sheets tight. A million emotions crashed through him like a tidal wave. He felt the bed shift beside him, but didn’t dare look for fear of it all being a dream.
“Andrew,” his voice came out whisper-soft with a subtle shake.
A warm hand settled on the back of his neck, punching the air that had been trapped in his throat. He couldn’t hear the other end of the call through the blood rushing in his ears. Andrew plucked the phone from his shaking hands and brought it up to his ear. Neil turned and stared at him. At a glance, Andrew was unmoved; there was no tremor, no hitch in his breath, no waver in his voice, but Neil knew better. Andrew was just as anxious as he was.
The call felt like it lasted hours. The time was ticking by with only a few hums from Andrew. Andrew tossed the cell to the floor. “Yes, or no?” Andrew’s voice was quiet but sure.
“It’s always yes with you.” He heard Andrew scoff at his response, but clearly it was a good enough response because he felt callused hands tilt his head and soft lips brush his. The touch was featherlight and quick. Resting his forehead against Andrew’s, their noses brushing and their breath mixing.
Carefully, hesitantly, he asked the question that’s been hanging over his conscious like Damocles' sword, “Is it true?”
There was a brief silence, and for a second, Neil felt his heart pound, attempting to jump from his chest. “The social worker will be here within the next few hours.” Andrew’s voice was monotone, but the hand on Neil’s neck flexed slightly. Too many feelings flooded through him at once.
It was finally time. After almost eight months of careful deliberation, paperwork, background checks, training, and interviews, they were finally, finally getting a placement. A child. Neil had to remind himself to breathe, to fill his lungs with air. His mind was reeling. They’d have to get the house ready, while they preferred a clean space, they had only recently gotten back from a trip to Germany after visiting Nicky. They had left their suitcases spilled open in the living room and their boxes of takeout on the counter. Maybe they were filthy.
Oh god, what if he scared the kid? One of their hiccups in the process was his face. Neil Josten had been legally ‘Neil Josten’ since Baltimore, and despite speculation, his past wasn’t just open knowledge. The Feds had kept everything under wraps, allowing his background check to come clean. That didn’t mean they just let him pass. They questioned where he got the scars from, if he was aware that they could scare children, and if he was prepared to be removed from the program because of his face, making the environment unsuitable. And what if it is? What if this kid comes, and Neil makes it all worse, looking like a monster straight from the woodchipper?
Andrew also struggled through the process. His own background check is coming out shaky. While most of his record had been sealed after becoming an adult, his past became public knowledge because of the media. They badgered the two of them endlessly.
Emotionally, it was hard.
Neil jumped, feeling something against his cheek. It was Andrew, of course. Neil leaned into the warm hand. His mind was slow to catch up, but eventually he began to understand the firm mantra coming from Andrew’s lips. “Your name is Neil Josten, you’re at home, in our bed,” Andrew repeated it almost three more times before Neil was fully back to the present. Andrew knew, because of course he did, his brown eyes softening and his lips curving up just slightly, “Good, come back, Junkie.”
“I’m sorry.” He’d have to stop doing that.
Andrew used the hand on his cheek to push his head away, “shut up.”
“Make me,” Neil grinned, watching as Andrew contemplated the statement. The struggle of making Neil do anything must not be worth it. Andrew instead pushes himself up and out of the bed, black sweats hanging low on his waist as he searches the ground for his socks.
“What else did they say?” He asked, eyes glued to Andrew's back. Specifically, the crescent of moles that decorate his right shoulder blade.
“A boy.” Andrew started before pushing himself onto the dresser by the window. Pale hands pull fuzzy socks over bare feet. They worked hard to get here. To be vulnerable. To build a life. To have a family.
“A boy,” He echoes.
Chocolate eyes glance his way, “He’s seven, allergic to penicillin, it’s an emergency placement.”
Seven. That’s younger than he imagined when he thought about a child. Neil supposes he always envisioned a young teen. But—they could handle it, will handle it. that wasn’t all that stuck out to him though. An emergency placement could mean anything from the loss of a guardian to a legal dispute gone complicated. “Did they say what happened?”
“No.”
Neil rolled the information around in his brain. He’s beyond excited, but worry finds a way to sneak through. He has to swallow the anxiousness back down. “What’s his name?” he asks breathlessly.
“Joshua,” Andrew spoke the name reverently. Clearly affected by the situation like him. It was an average name.
“Joshua,” now it was a name that meant so much more. It was a name that filled Neil with emotions.
Andrew hummed as he hopped from the dresser. Pink fluffy socks silencing his steps as he stalks out of the room. Neil should follow. They had only a few hours to get the house put together, themselves, while they were at it. A glance at his worn hoodie and running shorts affirmed his need for a shower. But he felt frozen. Glued to the warmth of Andrew that still lingered between the sheets.
With a sigh, Neil rolled off the bed. he scavenged the room for clean clothes. A more challenging endeavor than he was prepared for. Briefly, he thought about asking Andrew to join him in the shower. A habit they continued after his time in Baltimore. But today was bound to be stressful. No matter how much excitement Neil felt, he had to keep it together. He had to give Andrew whatever space he needed so that today could go as smoothly as possible.
The shower was cold as he stepped into it, but he didn’t linger long. Quickly washing himself with the overpriced soaps, scrubs, and lotions that Andrew collected. He decided to wear an old Foxes hoodie and a clean pair of jeans. Neil hopped; the blinding orange of the hoodie distracted him from the blinding scars of his face.
Cool bathroom air mingled with the warmth of the rest of the house as he searched for Andrew. He expected to find the man somewhere cleaning. Maybe in the kitchen, drinking cavity-inducing coffee. Instead, the blond must have opened the front door to lounge against its frame.
“He’s not here yet,” He teased. Pushing his own back against the wall next to Andrew.
A heatless glare was directed his way—not that he truly noticed. His attention was instead drawn to the glint of the ring that pierced Andrew's lip. Would now be a bad time to ask for a kiss?
Andrew huffed through his nose. “Junkie,” he scolded. He tilted his head back to the road outside their house, effectively hiding the piercings that gleamed against his skin. Andrew didn’t speak for a long moment. “We won’t be like them.” He finally stated. It came out factually. As if there was no other option.
And there wasn’t. They’ve had this conversation before. They had it alone at night in bed, they had it before they even began thinking about properly going through the process of becoming foster parents, and they had it together with Dobson.
Neil’s answer was second nature to him by now, “No, we won't.”
His simple acquiescence was all it took for Andrew. The blond pushed away from the door and marched back inside.
Together they finished the chores, working in silence as they went. Suitcases placed in the attic, food prepped and stored in the fridge, laundry folded and shoved in drawers, and fresh sheets on the beds. Neil watched as Andrew walked in and out of the room. Joshua’s room.
Neil sat on the bed as Andrew finished the final touches. The job of the children's room went to Andrew. Neil had neither the eye for design nor the experience of a childhood room to be of any help. But Andrew was up for the challenge. He painted the walls a soft blue, bought a cream comforter for the bed, and installed a lock on the door.
It was a nice room.
Andrew plopped on the bed beside him, causing Neil to bounce. Their pinkies locked together. Now it was time to wait. They watched as the clock on the wall ticked by, and when the sound of the doorbell finally rang, Neil wondered if they could wait some more. Andrew pulled him up by their linked pinkies, and together they walked that way.
The hallway stretched on, and the path to the door seemed to be endless. The door that he had been standing in just a few hours ago suddenly felt like uncharted land. What if it's just the social worker here to tell them they will no longer need to foster Joshua? He heard that it was something that could happen. His nails dug into the palms of his hands. He needs to open the door, but his limbs won't move.
The handle of the door was gripped. Not by Neil but by Andrew, whose shoulders were tense and up to his ears. In a quick move, the door was thrown wide open.
The first thing he noticed was a colorful clipboard. Then the women attached to it. She was tall, professionally dressed, and had a stern expression. And tucked quietly behind her legs was a little boy.
He was short, with dirty blond hair and weary eyes.
Suddenly, all his anxiety, nervousness, and fear washed away. A tug on his hand told Neil Andrew was ready, too. Everything would be fine. They would be just fine.