Chapter Text
The Foxes' voices overlapped in unfocused chatter, an indistinct background buzzing, as Neil made his way onto the bus. Not quiet – never quiet – but secondary to the leaden feeling of his legs.
It had been a good game. Full of productive passes and consuming plays. The sort of game one played hard on the court, and talked fast while waiting to be tagged back. Cataloging movements, bulletining weaknesses, whispering suggestions. Clean, but challenging.
Now, Neil dragged. Dragged his duffel on sagging shoulders; his feet, too much effort to lift properly.
But he knew he would be too antsy to sleep on the road. If he’d jacked himself up on caffeine before the game, Neil would be in scarcely less anticipation of the inevitable crash to follow – too jittery still to rest but too tired to function. Too keyed up with the movement still fresh in his bones. With thoughts of strategy and hindsight – goals scored, goals missed. Goalkeepers. One, specifically, but Neil forced his brain in a different direction as people piled onto the bus.
If it had been a home game, Neil would have sought reprieve on the roof of Fox Towers, letting the cool night breeze whip through him and draw him back down to Earth enough to let the tiredness in his bones actually settle. Or, as was becoming more typical, he could have let Andrew clear his mind with the heat of his mouth and his weight sturdy where it was pressed up against Neil.
But they were on a bus – loud, crowded, high on winning – with six hours in between them and Palmetto.
Andrew walked beside him, slowly. Not looking at him, but aware of Neil’s restlessness enough for the latter to know that Andrew understood he was bordering on exhaustion and unable to do anything about it. Andrew leaned in, not touching, but allowing Neil to feel his presence. Neil angled himself closer.
"Oh, shit, sorry," Nicky grinned in front of them, although his arms shook with the force of trying to haul his bag into the overhead.
The game had spent everyone's strength, but the victory was satisfying enough for the strain in their bones to feel like accomplishment instead of agony. Well, mostly.
Nicky's bag tumbled, crashing at Neil's feet. Neil stopped, swaying, and Andrew stopped with him, tugging on the corner of Neil’s hoodie sleeve.
He was looking at Neil now – insistently.
Neil turned his eyes, but not his head, gaze questioning to Andrew’s blank and searching. Whatever Andrew found had him pulling Neil to the back of the bus as soon as Nicky had (barely) succeeded with his bag. As they passed, Nicky still stood there looking at his tote, now wedged precariously in the black mesh, like it was a boast-worthy feat and totally not his last straw.
Kevin was quick to pursue Neil. “What did you think about the Terrapins’ defensive line at the beginning of the second half? Unconventional, switching out one of their backliners for another dealer, but effective in driving play forward. Of course, no match for us, but definitely something to consider moving forward.” He paused, eyes turned up to the grey plastic of the bus’s roof; although, he appeared to see only stars. “If we were to adopt a similar approach with Dan and her more forward style, it might be enough to force an opening for one of us if we are backed into a corner.”
Neil paused, letting the idea play out in his mind. “Yeah, but we’re rarely put in a position where we would need to force an opening like that anymore,” he responded. Earnest, but slow.
Dan looked up where she was settling down in one of the middle rows and frowned. “Depending on the game, it might be useful, but it’s likely the opposing team will realize something is up. They’ll be on guard.”
“We’re not exactly known for starting on the defense,” Neil chimed.
“Exactly. Granted, it wouldn’t hurt to try it, but I wouldn’t give it too much of our time if it doesn’t click; we have more important skills to work on as a team.”
“True – our interception rate was, frankly, neglectful – but just think about it, Wilds, we —"
“I mean, we could…” Kevin turned to Neil as he cut the latter off. Neil inhaled deeply and then blew it out. He could see it in his mind, but for some reason, words were hard. “We could — if we take the defense, they’ll be weary, like you said – but we could use that to our advantage. Make them think something's going to happen with the two of us, divert their attention with a fake play, and, um…”
“Abruptly pivot, bring in that extra dealer while play continues, throw them off, and smash their lines – pin them between the dealers and us.” Kevin's eyes spark. They were focused now, bright and fervent. “We could also have one of the dealers function as strikers, although, Allison, you’re going to have to work on your shooting. Like, a lot.”
“Hey!” Neil jumped at Allison’s voice, far nearer him than he anticipated.
“But it is an interesting thought,” Kevin continued, “It will be like our own Case Yellow. And the Terrapins were too stupid to see the potential in it.”
Neil just blinked. “Case what? Kev, I don’t…what the fuck does that —”
“Kevin,” Dan said, voice calm. Everyone turned instinctively. “Do not compare us to the Nazi’s.”
Suddenly, everyone was talking, voices overlapping in a cacophony not unlike a middle grade music class whose teacher had finally given up. Neil hadn’t even realized the rest of the team had been paying attention.
Andrew exhaled beside Neil as a stricken Kevin backtracked (No, sorry, that’s not – I didn’t mean…Can we focus? I – Sorry). Neil turned to him. The sigh was quiet, as Andrew always was, but with enough force for Neil to hear the intention behind it. Neil shot Andrew a look before the blonde told the others to fuck off. Andrew’s incredulous stare read your funeral, but he kept walking, outpacing everyone to drop unceremoniously into the far right window seat – staring at the empty back headrest of the seat in front of him. Neil’s seat, usually.
Neil understood. There was only so much Exy the goalkeeper could entertain in one night after all, but he also knew Neil needed it now more than he needed him.
When Neil sat, it was in the window seat two seats down and across from Andrew
The others migrated with Neil, like the Fox pack they were, gathering around the back left of the bus, and feeding off each other's ideas. Conversation flowed rapidly and in volume.
Zoom in left, and catch a glimpse of Kevin holding court; shift center to Matt, toned muscle visible as he gestured animatedly to Aaron in the seat across the aisle – elbows on knees, blocking the passageway. Then lift your head to Allison and Nicky, one seat in front of Matt, laughing physically, and then – wait, no, Dan’s abandoned whatever repartee she’d carried with Renee to join in Kevin’s discourse. On occasion, even Andrew cocked his head slightly, but Neil thought he was the only one to notice that.
For a while, Neil forgot he was ever tired.
This did not last. Slowly, dialogue became harder to follow, and each comment Neil made was with more of a delay from the last
Sounds floated, becoming distant until they weren’t, with Matt’s booming laugh or Allison's sharp shrilling snapping Neil back in focus. Forcefully, although the rest of the Foxes could not know it. Heart racing and eyes darting – two, five, nine exit points – although the rest of the Foxes did not see it.
In these moments, Neil held himself too still, his full being fighting against an innate urge to run. Neil could feel Andrew's attention perk up again, and as they’re pulling into a pit stop off the main road, Andrew threw a wad of a rippedTerrapin v. Foxes program at him with goalie's precision, striking right in the back of the neck. Neil looked over; Andrew beckoned.
Conversation, as a whole, had stagnated, and the Foxes had long ago abandoned trying to pull Neil back in – or resurrect the early energy of the coach. Neil was neither the first nor only person to drift off, although he was unaware when that change had occurred. Thus, it was easy, practiced fugitive that he was, for Neil to stand and cross the aisle unnoticed, plopping down beside Andrew as the blonde leaned in.
“Stay,” Andrew whispered, without looking at Neil, before slumping back into his chair. A fleeting warmth there and then gone, like the campfire’s kiss in a feverish wind.
It was odd sitting in Andrew’s seat, looking at Andrew’s right profile as he stared out the window, watching the shadows of his throat move as he swallowed. Not unpleasant – god knows it was a good angle – just weird. And a little frightening, if Neil let himself examine it too closely, the fact that Andrew trusted him enough to be between him and the door.
“Alright, miscreants, you have five minutes, and only five!” Wymack motioned for the team to get a move on.
Neil exhaled once everyone was gone, head tilted back into his seat, body sagging. The sudden, utter stillness of the bus after so much activity – the absence of the engine’s constant whirl, the complete lack of human presence shuffling about – felt not unlike Fox Towers roof.
When he turned to give Andrew a tired smile, Andrew was already looking back, turned towards him, with his arms loosely folded over his chest in a parody of reservation.
All was calm.
“Yes or no?” Andrew asked after a time, eyes following a strand of hair that had fallen into Neil's eyes. Neil hadn’t even realized he’d let himself close his eyes until he had to look up at Andrew. For once, he did not come into awareness with a start.
“Yes,” Neil said, nodding when his words came out almost inaudible.
Andrew reached forward, letting his hand peek through the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt, and looped the errant curl. Neil leaned into the movement, even before Andrew was using it to yank Neil closer.
Neil paused and looked up at Andrew, assessing again. Neil knew what Andrew sought. It was usually one of their safe touches these days – along with hand-holding and hair playing – but Neil would never have thought to ask here.
Andrew nodded.
Incrementally, Neil gave himself to Andrew, loose and completely, letting his head fall onto the blonde's shoulder - his whole weight into the crook of Andrew's neck.
He was hot against Neil’s check, the fabric of his black hoodie soft and familiar, pulling away enough to expose skin vaguely indented from where goalie padding had chafed. Andrew moved a little, and Neil felt Andrew’s small exhale on his temple, nose brushing the side of his head.
Even though the blonde would never admit it, Neil knew Andrew liked him this way. Trusting, sleepy, comfortable to settle and stay.
Now, with the force of Andrew beside him, when Neil closed his eyes, it was on purpose.
And if, behind closed lids, Neil sensed light darkening as Andrew moved his free arm across to tangle his fingers in Neil’s hair, the striker absolutely did not reply with a whispered kiss into Andrew’s neck before promptly falling asleep.
And if Andrew continued to play with Neil’s hair while he slept, no one had to know.
--
Indeed, when the Foxes re-emerged, their residual adrenaline finally, utterly spent after five minutes between the beaten metal aisles of the convenience store and the hard plastic stalls of even more weathered restrooms, Andrew’s hands were crossed again over his chest, head turned towards the underside of the overhead.
Abby was the first to notice, but her eyes did not linger on them long.
Andrew heard the Foxes shuffling, felt others' eyes on them – awareness sharp, jaw clenched – but, smartly, not a word was said. Only one soft exclamation, short and forcibly silenced, made it through. Andrew thought it was Nicky, but he did not bother turning his head.
Against him, Neil shifted, inhaling sharply. He was awake again, but only just. Andrew felt a brush of hair against his side as Neil lifted his head slightly, face still turned inwards, and tugged the hood of his sweater up before sinking back into place.
Andrew forced his shoulder to relax. This became easier once it was clear the rest of the Foxes - in their usual seats this time - had found other things to occupy their attention. Andrew exhaled and turned to stare at the redhead, into his hair, breathing in the scent of cheap soap and clean linen and something so distinctly safe.
And if that made him feel things - if that made him honest to god ache - well, no one had to know that either.