Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Tuesday was probably Neil’s favorite day of the week. He only had two classes in the morning and both were lectures that he didn’t mind sitting in. After his lectures, he always went to the small coffee shop that didn’t even serve good coffee, but it was cheap and it was routine. Routines helped and kept him focused. Besides, the coffee shop was the only one that hadn’t tried to demand proof of papers for his service dog. One would think that the prosthetic leg would be proof enough but Neil clearly overestimated the mental capacity of most people.

Armed with subpar coffee and a warm bagel, Neil made his way to the library. The main floor was a communal hub, with no volume limits and plenty of chairs and couches for people to sit on. Tucked on the left side was an open room full of tables, the tutoring center. The woman behind the desk smiled as Neil walked up and wrote down his arrival in a notebook. Neil liked tutoring oddly enough, he didn’t care much for the people, but he enjoyed the subjects and the feeling of someone understanding a difficult concept was hard to beat.

A good chunk of the people who frequented the tutoring center were those who were on big-time scholarships and unwilling to risk dropping a point in their GPA. Hyped up on coffee, Neil often had to fight them away from his preferred table. The largest portion, however, were the athletes. All are required to maintain a minimum of 2.3 to play for the NCAA Division 1 league. Neil tutored football players, soccer stars, and dancers every day. For most, as long as they went to their classes and didn’t fail any exams, it was an easy gig. Two hours a week in the tutoring center was an easy gig.
The Exy team was no exception.

Neil had started tutoring Matt Boyd last year, the tall man hopeless with his French courses. His pronunciation was leaps and bounds better, and the backliner was steadily maintaining a passing grade in the class. Languages were difficult for athletes who traveled almost weekly for games.

Thankfully, there was no one at the table Neil had claimed as his own. Despite the years of therapy he still took a table in the back of the room. There were other reasons, which his therapist had been good to point out, the fact that being further back in the room kept his dog focused on the task. Babe Ruth was a large golden retriever who seemed to forget that he had an additional appendage attached to his rump. The dog's tail was a weapon, thumbing hard enough against a leg to leave bruises. It was a disappointing scenario, considering Babe Ruth walked to the right side of Neil—tail smacking against his good leg. At the table, Neil took care to sit with his back to the side wall rather than the back. It was the little things, he reminded himself mentally. By now, his voice in the tutoring center was easily ignored as he commanded Babe Ruth to lay at his feet. The dog wasted no time, flopping onto the hard carpet and splaying out his limbs.

Neil checked his watch, Matt would be arriving in a few minutes. He always came right after his French class. Neil had managed to arrive a little early, so he went ahead and pulled out the workbook and folder that they’d been using over the semester. This was their fourth meeting and already Neil liked how they were able to review the French that had just been covered in Matt’s class. He made a mental reminder to email his thanks to the French Professor, she’d been helpful in sending Neil her presentations for the classes.

Elsewhere in the room, someone laughed. The atmosphere was settling, and comforting. The gentle sound of paper and pencils writing soothed him. At the table beside there was a new student he didn't recognize, most likely a run-of-the-mill undergrad whose professor promised bonus points if they came to the tutoring center. The student was distracted, their eyes falling to Babe Ruth lounging on the floor. It wasn't like Neil was some campus cryptid. He frequented the libraries, his department buildings, and several of the grassy spots almost daily. Besides, the story of the tortured, scarred kid with a fake leg and a dog made the rounds fairly quickly. It normally only took until the second week of classes before students stopped staring at him. Everyone had their own lives and more important places to be.

Neil drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Below him, Babe Ruth’s ear flicked but he didn't react. Matt strolled into the tutoring center with a wide smile and textbook in hand. It was a little terrifying to watch him hold the thick book with such ease. Neil didn't stand, just lifted a hand and gave a small wave. No one expected him to stand to greet them anymore. Matt’s grin was blinding as he slid into the seat closest to Neil.

“Neilio, my man!” He exclaimed, tugging out his own notebook before glancing under the table and adding in a softer voice, “Hello, Ruth!”

It was difficult not to like Matt. At first, Neil had been against forming friendships with those he tutored but Matt had made that impossible. The other man was friendly and excited about damn near everything. There were a handful of times that Neil had been persuaded to join Matt in grabbing coffee somewhere on campus after a tutoring session. The hangouts had been fun and Neil had found himself laughing freely.

Neil returned the smile. “Good week so far?”

Matt stretched his arms out. “Can't complain yet, we won our game Friday night.”

“I heard,” Neil nodded, opening up his workbook and flipping to the correct page.

“You could watch,” Matt started. “Tickets are still on the table.”

Neil waved him off. “Thanks, but you know I'm busy.”

It wasn't even a lie. He was busy most evenings whether he liked it or not. Most of the time he was juggling his own course assignments and building lessons for his tutoring sessions. When it wasn't school related it was Babe Ruth. They went on a long evening walk at the same time every night around their apartment complex. There was a small dog park where Neil would throw a ball a few times to wear off any excess energy. If he had free time it was usually spent in the gym of his apartment. Stuart had had Neil fitted for a running blade over the summer and Neil had spent all his free time on the treadmill since. Still, there was the looming memories of a large black building and small court shoes scuffing the polished floor. Sometimes he could watch games, but far too often for his liking his mind took a walk down a bloody memory lane.

Matt opened his textbook. “You promised one game this season, don't forget it.”

Neil laughed and pushed the waving finger away from his face. “I won't,”

They jumped into the tutoring session quickly. Matt quickly reviewed the concepts that they'd covered during the class just a few minutes before while Neil opened his laptop. He pulled up the PowerPoint presentation the professor had emailed him and scrolled through it while Matt talked. They'd moved away from grammar and sentence structure to focus on the culture of France this week. Music and cuisine were the top two Matt was interested in. Neil jotted down a few words for Matt to conjugate regardless, always best to keep the mind sharp. They'd been working with familial sentence structures the previous week. ‘My mom likes blue shoes’ and ‘my cat is named Matcha’ types of things.

From the front of the room, the woman stood and walked toward the back tables. Neil watched her approach the table beside him. Amber sat there with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she'd curled it today and sprayed something in it that made it shimmer. The two whispered for a few before Amber cursed. Matt's attention pulled from his conjugations.

“Everything okay?” A hero to a fault.

Amber glanced over and slumped back in her seat. “I’m the only one free to take Minyard.” She frowned.

“I take it it's not Aaron?”

Neil blinked as he looked between the two. “Is something wrong?”

Amber huffed. “You're always booked so you don't have to deal with him,” she started, “but Andrew Minyard is the absolute worst.”

Matt winced. “He's not the most friendly person.”

“He's been through four tutors this semester alone.”

That was impressive—hey were only five weeks into the semester. Neil watched as Amber ranted to Matt about the upcoming tutoring session when he caught Matt’s eye.

“How do you know Andrew?” Neil questioned.

Matt laughed. “Neil, bud, he's on my team.”

That made more sense than Neil expected it to. Matt could walk into a room and recognize someone and say hi, later he'd tell Neil that they'd met in the grocery store aisle last week. He was the definition of a friendly giant. Knowing that this “monster” of a tutoring student was on the Exy team made Neil a little less inclined to attend a game anytime soon.

“If I sneak out do you think Holly will write me up?” Amber mumbled, her face now hidden in her arms.

Neil shrugged. “He’ll just be back, athletes need two hours a week here.”

Amber turned her face to the side and sniffed. “I don't like you very much right now.”

Neil wasn't the sympathetic type, but he knew Amber was fairly weak-willed. If Andrew Minyard was as bad as the rumors said, she'd be crying before the hour was up. Neil wasn't too keen on staying late to offer a pat on the shoulder if that happened. Babe Ruth was also trained as an anxiety dog, perfect for a college campus. He'd be stubborn when leaving if Amber was in tears.

Neil sighed. “Do you know French?”

Amber sniffles again. “What?”

He checked his watch. “Matt is here for an hour and we're only ten minutes into his session on French,” Neil started to explain. “If he is okay with it I will let you take him for the rest of the time and I’ll be free to take Andrew.”

Amber’s eyes widened and she looked at Matt. The other man shrugged. “I'm okay with it.”

She wiped under her nose. “I took Spanish but I'll see what I can do!”

Neil winced but didn't say anything as Matt got to his feet. Workbooks and papers were transferred over quickly. He'd need to work out another time to meet up with Matt to make sure he was doing alright after this session. As Matt settled in his new chair, Amber jumped to her feet to update the list at the front desk. Oftentimes, tutors could be requested, and they had a schedule for it, but if someone popped in, they got whoever was free. Holly at the front desk rolled her eyes at Amber’s update but didn't say anything.

Only a few minutes after Amber sat back down did Andrew Minyard enter. Neil only recognized him from the team photo Matt had shown him last semester. The issue was, there were two of the same men in the photo. Clearly identical twins but Neil had no way of knowing which one was Andrew. He had his suspicions, the blank face matched more to the goalie than it did the back liner. Holly gestured to Neil's table and he lifted a hand. Andrew didn't wear a backpack as he walked over. There were no notebooks or textbooks in his hands and Neil briefly wondered if he even carried a pen.
Andrew dropped into the seat directly across from Neil but pulled the chair to the side. His back positioned more toward the back wall.

Neil nodded. “Andrew Minyard?”

The man blinked. “It appears so.”

Clicking his pen, Neil turned to a blank page. “What class are you needing help with today?”

Andrew didn't respond.

Neil frowned. “I see you didn't bring any materials.”

Again, no response.

“I have a few workbooks with me, once I look up your schedule we can see what you need help with.”

Neil typed Andrew’s name into the tutoring site and waited while the school's Wi-Fi struggled to pull up his schedule. He didn't outwardly react to Andrew’s criminology major and instead scrolled down to his list of classes. Most Neil wouldn't be useful in; all higher level criminology and law seminars. Andrew was enrolled in German and a basic entry-level math course. Neil dug around his bag for the appropriate workbook.

He set it on the table. “How about we start with some basic problems and work from there?”

This time, Andrew shrugged. He still didn’t say anything but his eyes tracked over the workbook instructions as Neil carefully explained them. Andrew tapped his finger against the page. Gently, Neil set a sharpened pencil down on the table. Andrew’s gaze moved like spilled honey to the writing utensil. Andrew’s writing was small and precise, not a move wasted as he worked. Neil frowned as he worked. The problem had been an easier one, but normally students had difficulties with the formula the first few times. Andrew worked steadily through the problem in stony silence.
He set his pencil down after the first one. Neil leaned forward, scanning over the work he’d been watching. It was all correct. Neil gave a small hum of approval, already mentally bumping up the difficulty for their next session.

Neil leaned forward to tap the next problem. “Do you mind if I show you a better way to solve these types of problems?”

Andrew’s gaze slid up and Neil stared back. He could play the silence game. The blank stare directed back at him was impressive. Ignoring everything around them was impossible, but Neil forced it to fade into the background. He’d gone hours with the FBI sitting in silence, some athlete with a stick up his ass wasn’t going to get the upper hand. Andrew eventually shrugged which was more than enough for Neil to shift the paper closer to himself.

As he talked, he worked through the problem. “They want you to use this formula as you work, but it really only added extra steps,” Neil explained. “You can use this formula instead and get the same answer in less time.”

He tapped the pencil to the paper as Andrew stared. Slowly, Neil extended the pencil toward the silent blond. Andrew blinked before taking the utensil. His fingernails were painted black, chipped from days of wear. Andrew’s grip on the pencil was loose and his writing was small. He marked out the problem and worked through it with the new formula that Neil had shown him. Neil watched as the blond worked. Once done, Andrew leaned back in the chair.

Neil leaned forward—an almost push-pull motion between the two of them—as he checked over the work. He knew the problems in the workbook almost by heart after two years of tutoring and using it. Andrew’s work was perfect.

Neil grinned. “Very good, you do that in class and you’ll impress Dr. Martin with your work.”

Andrew lifted a brow but didn’t say anything yet again. Instead, he sunk further into the chair, the heels of his shoes scrapping over the thin carpet beneath the table. Neil knew what was coming a second before it happened. Beneath the table, Babe Ruth huffed out a breath and shifted his body. Andrew’s expression didn’t change but Neil was sure he was surprised and confused as to what his foot had just hit.

Neil tugged on a lock of hair behind his ear as he explained, “Don’t mind Ruth, he usually sleeps through tutoring sessions.”

Andrew straightened in his chair and pressed a hand to the table. He met Neil’s eyes for a moment before leaning over to peer underneath. Oddly, Neil was grateful that he had opted for jeans today, it saved him from having to deal with the stares for the rest of their session. Andrew looked beneath the table longer than most and didn’t come up when Neil cleared his throat.

Neil too peered beneath. “Andrew,” he called, getting the blond’s attention. “This is Ruth, my service dog.”

Andrew’s attention was stuck to the dog laying on the floor. The heavy tail thumped on the ground at the attention, but he was well-trained enough not to jump up and seek out pets while in work mode. Neil kept watching, waiting for Andrew’s gaze to slide over to the hidden piece of hardware that was his left leg. Instead, Andrew straightened and returned to leaning back in his seat. Bored expression back in place.