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Kevin is on edge, which means Neil is stressed, and therefore, they are both doing their absolute best to annoy Andrew to the point of homicide. Andrew returns from a rare solo smoke break on the roof, Neil having waved off his earlier invitation to continue listening to Kevin’s useless ramblings, to see those two exactly where he’d left them. Kevin, pacing the strip of carpet between their living room and kitchen. Neil, sprawled in one of the bean bags, leg bouncing restlessly where he’s reclining.
“I just can’t believe he’s told Jeremy,” Kevin says, ignoring Andrew completely as he enters the room. Neil looks to him, head tilting slightly in invitation or greeting.
“Jeremy is Jean’s partner,” Neil responds. “He needs to be able to talk to him.”
“He’s not a Raven.” Kevin runs a hand through his hair, and from the way it’s slicked back along his skull, it’s not the first time he’s done the motion tonight.
“Jean doesn’t need a Raven,” Neil replies. There’s something hard in his voice, a warning there for Kevin. The glare Kevin responds with is fierce. Andrew is sick of this conversation going in circles.
He crosses the living room to settle himself directly in Neil’s lap. Neil adjusts immediately, pulling his legs together from their boyish sprawl so Andrew has a more comfortable seat. His hand fists its way into the hem of Andrew’s shirt, anchoring Andrew in place. Andrew can feel the deep breath Neil takes behind him, his chest expanding, his body unclenching.
Kevin’s frown turns petulant at Andrew’s presence. Or maybe the familiarity between Neil and Andrew. Prude.
“Regardless, I think you should find a time to talk to Jean alone. The less Jeremy knows about all of this business, the better.”
“I wasn’t planning on having Jeremy there.” Andrew takes Neil’s wrist in his, circling his fingers around the bony circumference of it. He can feel Neil’s pulse beating just beneath his skin where he presses his thumb. Neil’s breath his hot at the nape of Andrew’s neck.
“How long do you want to wait? They’re visiting for the entire week,” Kevin pushes on.
“If I wait too long, Jean’s just going to get himself worked up. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, after we pick them up from the hotel to bring them to practice. There’s not room for both of them in the Maserati anyway, so Jean and I can walk to the court. You can keep Jeremy entertained.”
So Neil is abandoning Andrew with Kevin, his gratingly positive Exy crush, and Andrew’s annoying family. Traitor. Judging by the smirk on Neil’s face when Andrew glances back at him, he knows it too.
“That could work,” Kevin agrees slowly. His pacing comes to a stop, a contemplative expression taking over his face again. The same one he wears when he’s puzzling through a new play to propose to the team. “Just don’t take too long. We can’t miss out on any practice time just because it’s off-season.”
“We’ll be fine.” Neil rolls his eyes. We, as in he and Jean, not the team, because Neil has been bitching nonstop about the state of their freshmen for him to mean the Foxes will be fine. But whenever Jean and Neil get together, mostly behind Andrew’s back, it spells trouble. Andrew shifts in Neil’s lap so he can see both of his idiots at the same time.
“Should we expect to hear about the mysterious suicides of Mommy and Daddy Moreau?” Andrew asks.
Kevin’s head whips up, and suddenly he’s pointing a finger in Neil’s direction.
“No more hits,” Kevin commands.
Neil drops his head back between his shoulders with a loud groan.
“I am not talking about this with either of you.” He’d heard enough from Kevin when he and Andrew had returned from their own Jean Moreau damage control mission in California. The oh-so-convenient death of Grayson Johnson, the same night Neil had arrived.
“Seriously, Neil. The main family is looking at this case enough as it is. We don’t need any reason for-” Kevin’s voice dips quiet, almost to a whisper, “for Ichirou to turn his attention on us again.”
“Got it,” Neil sneers. “I’ll just let the FBI do what they do best, then. Take dirty money and let those monsters walk away with only a slap on the wrist. I’m sure Jean will feel much better then.”
Andrew turns to study Neil more closely. Andrew’d been joking, mostly, when he’d brought up Neil’s previous overprotective gesture. He also knows Neil has no intention of doing anything about the Moreau’s or their trial, other than making sure Jean keeps Neil and the Moriyamas as far away from it as possible. But there’s also a truth that rings in Neil’s words, the kind that often leads Neil to stupid rashness.
“Jean doesn’t want that,” Kevin shoots back. “He wants nothing to do with his parents. He doesn’t need you fighting a battle he’s waved a white flag for long ago.”
“Easy to say when your fucking monster is already six feet underground,” Neil snaps back. Kevin’s nostrils flare, his hands tensing at his side. Andrew sits up a little straighter.
“Riko was always more Jean’s villain than my own,” Kevin says finally. “Jean’s finally found peace. Just help him get through this trial.”
There’s a stubborn light in Neil’s eyes, but eventually he deflates again. His eyes fall shut, and he brings a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. The auburn little strands of his eyebrows have gotten lighter in the sunlight. Nearly orange. They’re almost invisible against the tan of Neil’s skin.
“I don’t know why anyone is trusting me on how to talk to the authorities,” Neil mutters, and that finally has an amused snort leaving Kevin’s mouth.
“You got the FBI to let you stay, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Neil blinks his eyes open slowly. “I’ll talk to Jean tomorrow.”
“We’ll keep Jeremy busy when you do,” Kevin agrees.
“I’m sure you will,” Andrew murmurs lowly in German. Neil pinches his side with fast fingers that Andrew swats away.
“If I’m doing this, though, you have to keep the freshmen in line this week. I don’t want the Trojans to see how dysfunctional we are right now.”
Kevin arches an eyebrow to Neil.
“That’s not my job, Vice-Captain. I won’t be your training wheels just because they don’t respect you.”
“It’s for the week, Kev, I’m not asking for all season.”
“Fine.” Nodding to himself, Kevin moves from his anxious track by the kitchen. “I told Dan I’d go over some details for practice tomorrow anyway. Don’t stay up too late, their flight is getting in early in the morning.”
Deeming Neil properly managed, Kevin grabs his keys off the ring and exits the dorm room. It’s still, just for a moment, then Neil is leaning back into the beanbag chair.
“Hey,” he greets. His smile is much more relaxed now that it’s just him and Andrew in the room. Andrew swings a leg across Neil’s lap to straddle him properly. He guides Neil’s hands to his waist in a silent permission.
Alone, Andrew allows himself to study Neil more closely. He’s been playing it cool for weeks now after inviting the Trojans to visit as an excuse to talk in-person. He’s not taking secret trips to California himself this time, at least. But as Andrew looks closer, he can see the way Neil’s eyebrows pinch, his eyes distracted. He’s worried, more than he’s been letting on.
Andrew fists a hand into Neil’s head and forces his gaze up. Neil tilts back pliantly.
“I can see your hamster wheels turning, Rabbit.” Andrew tugs at Neil’s hair again, and Neil’s eyelids flutter in response. He always gets a little slack-mouthed like this, handing himself over to Andrew completely.
“It’s nothing,” Neil murmurs. His thumbs brush along Andrew’s hips over the fabric of Andrew’s t-shirt.
“It’s never nothing with you,” Andrew retorts. Neil’s eyebrows quirk up, and Andrew rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Idiot.”
Neil sobers after a few moments, his eyes going distant again. Andrew falls silent and waits for Neil to gather his thoughts.
“I have a bad feeling,” Neil settles on. Andrew narrows his eyes.
“Has something happened?”
Neil shakes his head.
“No. It’s not even my usual brand of paranoia. I think I’m just remembering. Every time I’m with Jean. Banquets, the Nest, when he came to recover here in Palmetto. One of us always seems to get hurt when we’re together.”
“That’s not unique to Valjean,” Andrew counters. “If you don’t recall, you have a habit of attracting problems.”
“That’s true,” Neil snorts. “And I know it’s stupid. That’s why I haven’t said anything. It’s just…”
“A gut feeling,” Andrew supplies.
“It’s probably nothing.” Neil sags further into the beanbag chair, bringing Andrew down with him. “It’ll still be nice to see them, anyway. Even if we have to listen to Kevin rave about Jeremy the whole time.”
Andrew snorts and brings the hand in Neil’s hair to span across Neil’s throat. He curls his fingers into the hollow just below Neil’s jaw, and Neil inhales sharply.
“You want to be the only striker for him, hm?”
“No, fuck off.”
“You had a stalker binder for him.” Andrew brings his lips to Neil’s ear, close enough to kiss. “Lie all you want, but I know better.”
“Pot meet kettle,” Neil retorts. His hands are still dutifully at Andrew’s waist, but his grip has tightened. Andrew can feel his pulse jackhammering beneath his fingers.
“I have my hands full enough with you as it is,” Andrew murmurs, shifting until his mouth is aligned with Neil’s. He’s panting in soft puffs from his mouth, washing over Andrew’s lips.
“You do,” Neil agrees. Andrew kisses him finally, letting his body sink completely into Neil’s. They’re pressed front-to-front, hips cradled. Andrew still can’t believe sometimes, that his body lets him touch Neil like this. Be touched like this. It’s like Neil has become an extension of himself, as safe and trusted as his own skin.
The way Neil yields himself completely into the kiss only proves the point. There’s no room to be distracted by old paranoias here.
***
Andrew wakes for the first time that day in a nearly dark room, Neil slipping out of the bed. The sun hasn’t even crested the horizon, but Andrew can see through bleary eyes Neil grabbing his running gear and slipping out of the bedroom. Andrew lets himself fall back asleep.
The second time he wakes, the bedroom is brighter, and Kevin’s alarm is bleating shrilly. Kevin groans, hand fumbling around for it. Andrew throws a pillow at him. Kevin swears, then finally smacks his hand along the snooze button.
“Get up,” Andrew grouses. Hair a mess, Kevin forces himself to sit up. He sways a bit, eyes blinking sleepily. Then, after a deep inhale, Kevin ambles to his feet. He stumbles out of their bedroom with none of the grace of a collegiate athlete. Too awake now, Andrew doesn’t take long to follow.
Neil is freshly showered and changed in the kitchen. He’s got a banana in his hand and a bandana tying his hair back off of his face. As he spies Andrew leaving the bedroom, he ducks into the refrigerator to take out the blender pre-prepped with all of Kevin’s favorite smoothie ingredients. Now that the room is awake, Neil puts it on the base and gets it whirring. The noise is too loud this early in the morning, so Andrew ducks into the bathroom to avoid it.
After getting ready he returns back to the main room, where a much more put together Kevin is slurping at his smoothie. Neil’s poured a cup for himself as well, his nose is wrinkling as he sips at the straw. He’s never been much of a fan of spinach, but Kevin swears it’s good for your iron. Up so early to run and willingly indulging Kevin’s whims, Neil must still be stressed about Jean’s visit.
“There’s waffle batter prepped in the fridge,” Neil murmurs as Andrew makes his way to the pair of them. “Strawberries too.”
“What are you trying to bribe me for?” Andrew asks. He catches Neil’s elbow and reels him in. “Did you crash the Maserati?”
“See if I’m ever nice to you again, asshole,” Neil grins. “If I was really trying to bribe you, I would’ve made the waffles myself. You do the hard part.”
“That sounds more like you,” Andrew murmurs. Ignoring Kevin’s radiating displeasure, he pulls Neil in for a greeting kiss. Neil smells overwhelmingly like his shampoo, his skin still warm from his shower. Andrew wants to drag him back to the bedroom and get another hour of sleep sprawled on top of him.
“Their flight is landing soon,” Kevin cuts in. He’s got a granola bar in his hand, his hair brushed into something presentable.
“I know.” Neil kisses Andrew one final, lingering time before pushing off the counter. “Are you going to want to stop for coffee?”
“Obviously.”
Neil shoots Andrew a shared exacerbated look before shoving Kevin out of the kitchen. From the jingling that follows his movement, he’s already got his copy of the Maserati keys in his pocket.
“We’ll be back in a bit,” Neil calls. “Let Nicky and Aaron know what the plan is for today.”
“Tell them yourself,” Andrew shrugs. “You have a phone, don’t you?”
“It’s probably dead.” Neil flees out the door before Andrew can hunt him down and shove a charger in his hand. Andrew will just have to strangle him with one when he returns.
It seems that he didn’t even need to hunt down his family to pass along Neil’s message. Andrew’s only alone for another thirty minutes, eating his waffles peacefully, when Nicky pushes into the room.
“Good morning!” He glances around the dorm, and his shoulders deflate when he realizes it’s just Andrew. Aaron trails after him, eyeing the waffles on Andrew’s plate with naked interest. “Aw man, you’re alone? I thought Jeremy and Jean would be here by now.”
“Kevin and Neil are dropping them off at their hotel,” Andrew shrugs. “They’ll be here for practice.”
“Should we catch another ride?” Nicky asks. Aaron skirts around the conversation to use the last of Andrew’s batter to make himself his own waffle.
“No. Neil wants to use your presence as an excuse to get Jean alone.”
“Sounds scandalous,” Nicky grins. “You sure we should leave those two to canoodle?”
“Yes, unless you’d like to be an accessory to lying to the feds.”
Nicky’s smile sobers. Aaron’s shoulders go tense where he hovers around the waffle maker.
“Neil made that,” he adds, just to be spiteful. Aaron curls his lip at the now empty bowl of batter, deciding if it’s worth it to eat something prepared by Neil. His hunger seems to outweigh his hatred.
“Whatever Neil thinks is best,” Nicky says. “I’m excited we get to meet Jeremy properly. I bet he’s even more gorgeous up close.”
That’s how the rest of the morning passes. Nicky chattering at the table, Aaron burying his head in his stolen breakfast. They transition to video games in the living room eventually, so painfully familiar. It’s like nothing has changed over the past year, and yet Andrew feels like a completely different person. Unmedicated, without his deals to keep his family by his side. But they’re still here, Aaron cursing loudly as Nicky cackles, Aaron’s character’s health bar blinking with danger. It’s surreal.
Hours later, the bedroom door opens again, and Neil and Kevin return. Kevin looks more settled now that the anticipation is over. There’s an energy to his steps as he flops onto the couch next to Andrew.
“How was it?” Nicky asks.
“Fine.” Neil perches on the arm of the couch, right next to Andrew. His face is smoothed over, not revealing anything, even to Andrew. Andrew tosses his controller to Kevin then grabs at the back of Neil’s calf. He yanks Neil over until his legs are sprawled over Andrew’s lap. Neil watches him, his lips twitching with a smile.
“The feds weren’t at the airport to arrest you both?” Aaron asks.
“No, sorry,” Neil drawls. “The Moriyamas weren’t there to gun us down either.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Nicky snaps, glaring at Aaron and Neil both.
“Who said I was joking?”
Andrew digs his fingers into Neil’s calf, drawing his attention again.
“There’s not much to say,” Neil says, relenting. “They were both pretty tired from the flight. Ready for a nap at the hotel. But Jeremy seems excited to see the court.”
“We won’t be running any of our newer drills while they’re here,” Kevin adds. “We don’t want to give them anything to work with before the championships.”
“You sure it’s our drills they’re going to be watching?” Nicky asks, wagging his eyebrows. Kevin sneers.
“We can’t underestimate the Trojans just because we’re friendly. With the Ravens in disarray, they’re in a good position to be the number one team this year. Penn State has lost some of it’s key players to graduation as well, so the Trojans’ odds are good.”
“And what about our odds?” Aaron pipes in. “The actual current number one team in the league.”
“We have our work cut out for us.”
“We’re Foxes, we always do,” Aaron counters.
“Then we’ll let that be our strength,” Kevin shrugs. “It’s what we’ve always done.”
That seems to placate Aaron. He turns back to the video game at hand, which draws Kevin in now that the controller is in his lap. Neil shifts closer in his seat so their arms brush. He seems content to just watch on quietly, so Andrew doesn’t press it. The real challenge comes later, anyway.
The remainder of the late morning passes like that, until suddenly, it’s time for them to pick up their two guests once again. Andrew stands, which has Kevin scrambling to his feet. Andrew passes a hand over the top of Neil’s head.
“Be ready.”
Without a final glance back, Andrew exits the dorm, Kevin at his heels. It’s a quick drive to the hotel, one that’s common for visiting fans to stay at before games. Jean and Jeremy are already waiting when they arrive. Jeremy all bright smiles and fidgeting hands, Jean who looks like he’s approaching the gallows. Must be genetic.
Kevin exits the car to greet them again, helping them load their things. As soon as Kevin climbs back into the car, Andrew takes off.
Jeremy and Kevin fill the short trip with useless chatter that he doesn’t bother paying attention to. Jean is a brooding, silent vacuum in the backseat. Neil had been right to think Jean would just work himself up into a nervous frenzy if they didn’t talk sooner rather than later. His eyes are a thousand miles away, even as he nods along to whatever Jeremy is saying.
As they pull into the parking lot, Andrew spies his family and Neil by the entrance. Matt and Allison’s cars are nowhere to be seen in the parking lot, so they must have already departed for practice. Neil has a cigarette in his hand, betraying how stressed he is as well for his and Jean’s impending conversation. Andrew wants this whole business over and done with.
“Frenchie. Out of the car.” His eyes trail Neil as the trio walks over to the Maserati.
“Andrew,” Kevin squawks. He always wants to be on his best behavior when Jeremy is around. The back door opens and Neil is there, fighting amusement off of his face.
“What Andrew means is that we don’t have enough room in the car for everyone. I figured maybe you and I could walk to the court. Have a chance to talk privately.”
Jean nods, passing his bag over to Jeremy before sliding out of the car. Jeremy looks worried, but is distracted as Nicky quickly takes Jean’s spot with a flirtatious greeting. Aaron takes the final seat in the back, slamming the door shut behind him. Kevin rolls down his window.
“Don’t be too late,” Kevin warns. “We’ve got too much to work on right now.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Neil assures.
Andrew takes a final moment to study him. For how nervous he’d seemed the night before, he looks steeled now. Even as Jean frowns at his side, baking in the South Carolina sunlight, Neil’s posture is steady, centered. He meets Andrew’s eyes behind Kevin’s shoulder and tips his chin down subtly.
Andrew turns to face the road again and peels away from the parking lot without a final word. Kevin curses, scrambling for the door handle, but Andrew pays him no mind.
“So are you excited to see our court?” Nicky asks.
“So excited,” Jeremy chirps. It sounds strained, but Jeremy is the lowest priority in Andrew’s order of things. “I’ve heard great things from Kevin. It’ll be exciting to see one of your practices too. You guys have a pretty solid second string now that you’ve recruited your freshman, right?”
“Second string is an overstatement,” Kevin counters. “We finally have subs, but until they’re in proper playing order they won’t see much playtime.”
“It’s hard going from one of the best players in your high school to playing with college athletes on the cusp of their pro careers,” Jeremy agrees. The trees surrounding Perimeter Road pass in a green blur. The faster Andrew drives, the sooner he can kick them all out of his car. But the longer he has to sit around the locker room without Neil as the team waits for him and Jean to arrive.
“That doesn’t matter for people like Kevin and Andrew. They’ve been the best at what they do even after high school.”
Nicky sounds proud, the only person in Andrew’s life to brag about him so boldly.
“I played in juvie, not high school,” Andrew reminds him. “That’s where all the violence comes from.”
“They put you in goal because you already were violent,” Aaron corrects. “Don’t blame juvie on that.”
“Enough,” Kevin snaps. “You’re all violent, criminal assholes. It’s why you’re Foxes.”
“Hey,” Nicky chirps. “I’m not violent or a criminal.”
“You’re criminally annoying,” Aaron grumbles.
Andrew is so glad to see the entrance to the court that he doesn’t pay attention to the car parked along the side of the road a few paces from the parking lot. He pulls into his usual spot, throwing himself out of the driver’s side door almost as soon as the car comes to a stop.
More bickering follows him as he stalks to the locker room entrance. He punches in the code, throwing the door open. Kevin only barely catches it before it closes behind Andrew. The sound of their fellow Foxes drifts from inside, growing louder and louder as he gets closer. As he breeches the entrance of the locker room, he sees the team scattered in their usual clumps.
The upper classmen are huddled around the largest couches. The freshmen burrowed into different corners. The conversations lull, though, as Andrew makes his entrance.
It’s really when Kevin and Jeremy enter that has everyone perking up. Dan stands from Matt’s lap and grins widely.
“Jeremy Knox! Welcome to the Foxhole Court.” She strides across the room to shake Jeremy’s hand. He beams, taking her hand in a firm grip.
“Thank you so much for having us. We’re so excited to see how you guys run things around here, especially after you handed our asses to us last spring.”
Dan preens under the praise, her chest puffing. Andrew skirts around their conversation to fall into the seat next to Renee.
“Hello, Andrew,” she greets with a small smile. Her eyes skirt to the rest of Andrew’s group pouring in.
“He and Neil are walking,” Andrew answers before she can even ask.
“I’m sure they have a lot to catch up on,” Renee laughs softly. “I’ll say hi to Jean later.”
Allison leans over, her blonde hair spilling over Renee’s shoulder.
“He and Knox are totally fucking, right?”
Renee shoots her a cool look.
“That’s not my business to say,” Renee answers.
“One-hundred bucks they are,” Allison presses on. “You’re so boring. Hey, Nicky! Come here.”
Ears perking, Nicky saddles up to Allison’s side.
“Hundred bucks Jean and Jeremy are fucking?”
“Oh easy,” Nicky agrees. “Two hundred they try to bring Kevin in on it before the end of the trip”
Andrew shoots Nicky a glare at that. Kevin Day, who thinks being heterosexual is the easiest thing for an athlete to be and has an apparent long-distance pro athlete girlfriend, is definitely not fucking the boy he let his pseudo-brother torture for years. Jeremy, maybe, just to prove his Trojan fanboy loyalty. But if it’s an all-or-nothing situation, Kevin is definitely not getting involved.
“I’ll take that bet.” Allison sticks out her hand, and her and Nicky shake on it. Renee shares an exacerbated little look Andrew’s way.
She opens her lips to say something else, but two cracking pops echo in the distance distract her. A firework set off by dumb kids, perhaps. Or a car backfiring. But Renee’s entire face shutters. It’s the face of a killer, the one he sees only when they spar, or when Neil had asked why his abusers loved to use knives so much. Every hair on Andrew’s body stands on edge.
“What,” he asks lowly.
“That sounded like gunshots,” Renee answers. Allison’s head whips around next to her, and Andrew shoots immediately to his feet. Renee grabs his wrist in a vice grip.
“We don’t know for sure yet,” she placates. But her eyes are haunted. This is a sound she’s heard before. As someone raised in gang life, it must be familiar to her. And Neil is out there, right now. Without Andrew once again.
“Let me go. I will only tell you this once.”
“Wait,” Renee all but pleads. She takes out out her phone and starts texting. Conversation continues around them, unaware of what’s unraveling in their little corner of the locker room. Andrew feels a scream building in his chest.
Allison calls for everyone else in the room to be quiet. Renee hits send, and after a few seconds her phone starts ringing. She brings it to her ear immediately.
“Jean?” Renee begins. Andrew can’t hear what Jean says on the other end of the phone, but it has Renee standing immediately.
“Yes. Abby is here. Are you hurt?”
That’s enough for Andrew. He rips out of her grip and turns down the hallway. Every piece of him wants to run immediately outside, but that won’t help now. Not when Neil could be hurt.
Andrew shoves into Wymack’s office where he and Abby are seated by his desk.
“For fuckssake Andrew, what?”
“There were gunshots outside. Jean’s asking for Abby.” There, that’s warning enough. He doesn’t wait to see if Abby follows, if Wymack is calling the cops. He’s got a rabbit to catch.
The locker room is tense when Andrew returns. Dan is on the phone in the corner, relaying what’s transpiring to the police. Matt is herding the freshman into the corner, soothing them in a calm voice. Jeremy and Kevin are huddled together on one of the couches. Jeremy has one of Kevin’s wrists in his hand, worry plain on his face. Andrew barely takes it all in as he storms to the locker room’s exit. What’s a knife in a gunfight? Seems like Andrew is about to find out.
He bangs out the backdoor and is immediately met with the sight of Jean stumbling over, Neil in his arms. Neil, whose face is death-white and his shirt soaked with blood. His arm is thrown loosely around Jean’s neck, his head flopped against Jean’s shoulder. His eyes are a thousand miles away.
“Give him to me,” Andrew demands. Jean meets him in the middle, transferring Neil gingerly into Andrew’s arms. Jean’s entire torso is covered in blood. He doesn’t know if it’s Neil’s or his own. Once Neil is firmly in Andrew’s grip, his head rolls back. His teeth are pink when he grins up at Andrew.
“Hey,” he greets. Like it’s any other day. He stinks of iron.
“I’ll kill you,” Andrew promises. Bad feeling his ass. Neil is never going anywhere on his own ever again. He is never allowed be around Jean. One or both of them is cursed. It must be a mafia thing.
Andrew wastes no more time retreating back into the court. Neil’s head slumps again, drooping against Andrew’s collarbone. He’s too loose-limbed in Andrew’s arms. A dead weight. The hallway feels endless this time around. But finally he’s back to the locker room, and Abby’s office is only a few steps behind that. As he kicks into the room, he sees Abby ready with gloves and her first aid kit open. Wymack hovers in the corner, pacing just like his son had been yesterday. They both look horrified as Andrew enters.
“Put him on the table,” Abby commands. Andrew sets him down, heart twisting at the pained grunt Neil lets out as Andrew lays him out. Abby brings a pair of scissors to the hem of Neil’s shirt and snips it clean in half. She tears it open, leaving his entire torso on display.
It’s impossible to tell what’s happened at first. His whole front bathed in blood, smeared and pooling in the existing scar tissue. But two holes pump a steady stream of blood, one in his shoulder and one above his hip. Abby goes back to the first aid kit.
Aaron slips in the room then, and Andrew hates how something unclenches within him at the sight.
“We need to put pressure on these. Has someone called the police?”
Andrew holds his hands out for the gauze in her hands. Abby gives it to him, and Andrew presses it into the wound in Neil’s shoulder. He pushes down hard, ignoring the pained wheeze that leaves Neil’s mouth. Teeth gritted, Abby does to same to the wound in his gut.
“Dan did,” Aaron answers. “They’re only a few minutes out.”
“Neil,” Abby prompts. “How are you feeling?”
“Jus’ fine,” Neil slurs. He turns his head to the side and spits, the phlegm hitting the exam table beside him. It’s more red than white. “Could run a marathon.”
“Yeah?” Abby laughs tensely. “I’ll get David to sign you up for the next one.”
Neil laughs weakly, which turns into a reedy cough that has him gasping in pain. His entire body twitches underneath Andrew’s hands, the gauze getting wetter and wetter. Andrew presses harder.
“How many mirrors have you broken in your life to get this kind of bad luck, huh?” Wymack adds.
“Can’ help it,” Neil mumbles. “Break ‘em with my ugly mug.”
The door bangs open again, and Jean stumbles into the room. He skirts around Andrew to take his place by Neil’s head. His hands hover awkwardly over Neil’s face, terror plain in the whites of his eyes. Andrew wants to rip him away, but he can’t. Not when his hands are keeping Neil from bleeding out. Not when Jean looks like he would barter his own life, just to save Neil’s. One of Jean’s large, scarred hands brushes Neil’s hair off of his forehead.
Neil’s eyelids flutter then meet Jean’s gaze. He blinks a few times, confusion tugging on his eyebrows.
“‘s okay,” Neil pants. It’s almost impossible to understand him with how slurred his words are. “Riko can’t… he won’t…”
Andrew’s stomach sinks. Neil thinks he’s in the Nest again, that he’s in Riko’s clutches. That Jean is here to put him back together again to send him off to Castle Evermore’s court. Andrew won’t have it.
“Quiet,” Andrew snaps. His heart is hammering painfully in his chest.
Neil’s eyes flutter, then roll to where Andrew leans over him. Something lights up there, when their eyes meet. Then Neil’s frowning.
“You can’t be here,” Neil huffs. “Not- Drew?”
Jean seems to understand Neil’s confusion immediately.
“We are not there, Neil,” Jean soothes. Andrew has never heard the former Raven speak so carefully. His hand is still brushing through Neil’s hair. “You are home.”
Neil blinks again, looking past Jean to the room around him. Then to Abby, to Wymack, to Aaron.
“Oh.” Neil’s head thunks back to the table. “Shit. Andrew’s going to kill me.”
Understatement of the century. First, he’ll make sure Neil doesn’t bleed out in their locker room. Then, he’s going to strangle him with his own two hands. He’s owed that much, with how much Neil has put him through. Some unknown gunman doesn’t get to take that from him.
“Oh yes, rabbit. You’re a dead man walking.”
Neil grins up at him, all teeth. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s locked onto Andrew’s face with sheer determination.
“You’re going to be just fine, Neil,” Abby interjects. Her teeth are clenched as she stares down at the soaked through gauze underneath her hands. When Andrew looks, his are similarly red. His palms are slick with it.
The door bangs open again, and a swarm of paramedics elbows their way in. Wymack crossed the room then, grabbing Andrew by the shoulders and yanking him back. Away from Neil. Andrew can’t see him now, with strangers blocking his path. Andrew shoots an elbow back at Wymack, making him grunt, but Wymack doesn’t lose his grip.
“Let them work,” Wymack says lowly in his ear. “They’re the only ones who can save him.”
But all Andrew can see is strangers’ hands all over Neil, shoving needles into his arm and shouting in his face. Andrew wants to yank them off of Neil. Wants to chase everyone out of this room so they can be alone. He finds solidarity, strangely, in Jean, who grips at his own arms hard enough to draw blood, just to stop himself from reaching out for Neil again.
In no time at all Neil’s transferred over to a stretcher and ready to be carted out.
“We can fit one more in the ambulance with us,” one of them calls. Andrew rips out of Wymack’s grip to follow.
The paramedics nearly break into a run as they speed back towards the parking lot. The ambulance is waiting, back doors open, and Neil is shoved on first. The paramedic who’d spoken earlier swings to the front to drive, so Andrew follows the other into the back.
“He’s lost a lot of blood already,” she tells Andrew as soon as they lurch into drive. Her bangs are plastered to her forehead, her face serious. “But it’s a short trip to the hospital. They’ve got an OR ready for him when we get there.”
Andrew is silent. Neil’s eyes have slipped shut, his face waxy. If it weren’t for the heart monitor beeping shrilly, Andrew would think he’s dead.
“Kid’s a fighter,” the paramedic continues. “He’ll be okay.”
Did she recognize Neil, or could she tell as much from the battlefield of scars littering Neil’s exposed torso? It makes Andrew want to drive his fist into her face regardless. It’s not her place to be acknowledging what Neil’s survived. Andrew doesn’t need to be told by a stranger what Neil is or isn’t. Andrew knows, he knows every ugly little thing about Neil Josten. But the paramedic the only thing keeping Neil’s heart beating, so he just takes Neil’s hand in his instead. Grips it to the point he feels Neil’s bones creaking. Neil’s hand doesn’t so much as twitch.
In no time at all the ambulance pulls into the hospital and the back door is thrown open. Doctors in gowns swarm, pulling Neil out and into the hospital. The paramedic in the back waves Andrew on, chasing after the throng of doctors. They bring Neil into one of the larger rooms in the ER, getting him hooked onto new machines. There’re bags of blood, too, finally getting hung and fed into the IV line in the crook of Neil’s elbow. Andrew goes to enter the room, but the paramedic throws an arm out in front of him.
“They won’t let you in,” she warns. “You try to bust your way in and they’ll get security on you. At least here you can keep an eye on him.”
It takes every remaining ounce of control to not shove past her and force himself into the room. To Neil’s side. He does as she says, though, eyes locked on the chaos of doctors surrounding Neil. The doctors are barking order to each other in medical jargon Andrew’s sure Aaron would understand. In what seems like no time at all, though, they’re moving him to a different gurney and pushing out of the room. Andrew goes to follow, but a nurse steps in then.
“They’re taking him up to surgery,” she says kindly. “It’ll be a while. Why don’t I take you up to the surgical waiting room? I’ve got some clean clothes from lost and found too, if you want to change.”
Andrew looks down at himself. Even dressed in dark clothes, he’s covered in Neil’s blood. It’s dried into every crack of his fingers, stains underneath his nails. It sticks to his armbands, itching and itching.
“Take me there.”
She leads him to an elevator, then down a hall. There’s another desk, another nurse, and the two murmur to each other quietly. The ER nurse turns back to Andrew.
“They’ll let you know when there are any updates. I’ll be right back with some spare clothes.”
“I’m fine.” The words are ash in Andrew’s mouth. She nods, looking a little sad, then tips her head to the other nurse as she leaves.
“Bathroom’s right down the hall if you want to clean up.” The surgical nurse offers. She’s staring pointedly at the blood on his hands. Andrew takes the hint.
He stalks down the hall and throws himself into the single stall room. He’s grateful for the lock in the door. Ripping off his armbands, he tosses them on the side of the sink, avoiding his own reflection in the mirror as he rips his shirt off. In the peripheral of his eyes all he can see is naked skin and blood. Old demons ring shrill in his head.
Andrew washes his shirt and armbands in the sink as best he can. The water runs red, then pink, then clear as he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs. He hangs them along the top stall of the bathroom before washing at his skin. His hands are the worst of it, no matter how many rounds of soap and water he just can’t seem to rinse Neil’s blood off of him.
Blood that shouldn’t be there in the first place. He should’ve taken Neil more seriously when he’d told Andrew about his bad feeling. Had it really been paranoia, or had his subconscious been picking up on something his conscious brain hadn’t registered yet? Neil hadn’t even lied to Andrew this time, to keep Andrew from protecting him. Andrew had just failed. Like he always would’ve failed. Even without a deal between them, he’s left Neil to face his enemies alone once again.
And now Neil is in an operating room somewhere, new scars to mark his body. If he lives. And Andrew’s hands are stained red, because once again he’s only there to clean up the mess. What’s even the point?
Andrew rips away from the sink before he can throw a punch at the mirror in anger. He can’t lose it, not now. He can’t get kicked out of this hospital. He won’t leave Neil alone anymore.
He grabs his armbands and shirt from off of the stall. Holds them under the hand dryer again and again until they’re passably damp. He pulls them back on and exits the bathroom.
Wymack and Abby are waiting when Andrew returns.
“Where were you?” Wymack snaps. Andrew shoves past him without a word to stand at the window. They’re high, higher than the roof at the Fox Tower. People move around like toy soldiers on the ground. Colorful little ants.
More Foxes arrive. The upperclassmen, Nicky and Aaron and Kevin. No one approaches him, finding other areas of the waiting room to tuck into. Time keeps passing.
Every minute feels like another ding on his sanity. Would they have told him by now, if something went wrong? If Neil is dead? He can’t be, Andrew would know. It’s the same thing when Neil had gone missing after Binghampton, when Andrew had choked Neil’s true identity out of Kevin. Even in the hands of the Butcher, even with a death countdown on his phone, Andrew had known Neil was alive.
It’s the same now. But that doesn’t make the wait less agonizing.
Finally a doctor enters the room, dressed like a proper surgeon. Andrew tears himself away from the window and crosses the room directly over to him.
“Mr. Josten’s surgery went incredibly well,” the doctor beams. He’s looking right at Wymack as he talks, but the words are loud enough for the room. “He was very lucky. The bullets were through and through, and managed to miss any major organs. We’ll have to see when he’s awake if there’s any impact to his range of motion in his shoulder, but we’re optimistic.”
Lucky isn’t how Andrew would describe Neil. But he’s alive, and Andrew is ready to tear his room number out of any hospital staff member in this room.
“We’re getting him set up in his room right now, so as soon as he’s settled you’re all welcome to go see him. He may be a little disoriented from the anesthesia, so be patient with him. We’ve asked the police to hold off on asking him their questions until he’s more cognizant, so if any try to enter his room please page a member of our staff.”
With that, the doctor leaves the room. The nurse at the front desk waves Wymack down, and Andrew follows in step next to him.
“They’re getting Mr. Josten settled in his room. He should be ready for visitors by now. Only two at a time, so you’ll have to go in shifts. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”
She looks down at the file in her hands.
“Looks like he’s in 1334. If you follow the signs, you should be able to find it.”
“Thank you,” Wymack murmurs. Andrew is already gone.
The surgical floor is less chaotic than the emergency room. There’s barely anyone in the hallways as Andrew follows the signs. 1301 1310, 1320, 1330.
Andrew doesn’t stop when he reaches 1334. He flings the door open, forcing his way inside.
Neil is propped up in bed, dressed in a baggy hospital gown and surrounded by hanging IVs and machines. There’s a nurse fiddling with one of the bags dripping clear liquid into Neil’s arm. She startles at Andrew’s entrance.
Neil’s entire face lights up when he spies Andrew. There’s a drugged, hazy smile on his lips. He holds up the hand not tangled in tubes out to Andrew.
“Drew,” he greets. He’s still so pale, especially in the fluorescent lights of the hospital. His hair is so, so red. Andrew crosses the room and takes Neil’s outstretched hand. It’s cold to the touch. He cups it, bringing it to his mouth to blow warm air on it. Neil sighs, his eyelids fluttering.
“I’ll give you some space,” the nurse murmurs. She clears out of the room, leaving Neil and Andrew alone.
“So how are you going to do it?” Neil asks. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken in days. There’s a cup of water at his bedside, so Andrew releases Neil’s hand to bring the straw to his mouth. Neil suckles at it gratefully.
“Do what?”
“Kill me,” Neil answers. “You could unplug the machines, but I don’t think they’re doing much. Maybe smother me with a pillow?”
“You know my plans take months.” Andrew skims his fingers over the swell of Neil’s cheekbone. Feels the round burnscar there. The downy peachfuzz brushing his face.
“Have to make it look like an accident, right,” Neil nods sagely.
“I could finally toss you over the edge of the roof,” Andrew offers. “You tripped, oh no.”
“But you know I’ll take you with me.” Neil’s eyes crinkle as he smiles up at Andrew. Andrew covers Neil’s mouth under his palm, hiding it. Neil’s teeth catch at the meat of Andrew’s thumb. Andrew moves it then to Neil’s hair, tangling into those locks. It’s his favorite place to touch Neil, secretly. Keep him in place, by Andrew’s side. Neil always relaxes under the grip.
“Who tried to do my job for me?” Andrew asks lowly. Neil shrugs.
“One of my dad’s old men, I think. Didn’t recognize him. Especially not after Jean bashed his skull into the road.”
Maybe Jean could be forgiven for his part in all this, harbinger of bad luck.
“You better say goodbye to Valjean, because you’re never going to be left with him again after this.”
“Drama queen.” Neil fumbles around for Andrew’s other hand, bringing it to his mouth to lay a kiss along Andrew’s knuckles. It’s wet and hot, messy on his skin. Andrew pulls Neil’s head back, just enough to kiss him. His mouth tastes horrific, stale in a way only anesthetics can do. Andrew kisses him more firmly.
“Nice try,” Neil murmurs against his lips. “But no. This isn’t Jean’s fault. It would’ve been my fault, if he’d gotten shot.”
“If he didn’t want everything to be his fault, he shouldn’t have been born a miserable french bastard.”
“True,” Neil grins. He kisses Andrew a final, fleeting time before settling back into the pillows.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“In the waiting room. Wymack is hovering outside the door like a guard dog.”
Neil has that shocked look on his face, disbelieving that they’d all stayed for him. Idiot.
“Want me to text Kevin?”
Neil nods, so Andrew takes out his phone to shoot off the room number to Kevin. He scratches at Neil’s scalp, watching Neil’s eyelids flutter happily.
“Don’t do this to me again,” Andrew says lowly. It’s almost a whisper, rumbling in the very back of his throat. Neil stares up at him with pure understanding.
“I’ll ry me best not to,” Neil responds. He makes no promises he knows he can’t keep. Andrew hates him for it.
There’s the familiar gait of Kevin’s footsteps in the hallway. Andrew drops his hand from Neil’s hair, settling on the pillow next to him instead. The door bursts open, Kevin’s usual blustering self. Jean is at his side, eyes immediately finding Neil where he’s tucked in bed.
“You’re lucky we’re not in season,” Kevin gripes. “How long will you be out of practice?”
“Enough, Kevin,” Andrew snaps. Exy is the last thing he wants Neil to think about right now. Not when Neil’s heartbeat is a thing that needs to be played aloud in the room, a too-present beeping. Not when his scars stand out in stark relief on his bloodless skin. This is not Neil Josten, Palmetto’s #10, injury status unknown. This is Abram, clawing himself out of another violence inflicted on him by his father’s men.
Jean crosses the room then, crouching down beside Neil’s bed. He says something in French that has Neil smirking at. Neil replies in the same language. They exchange a few words, and clearly Neil says something sweet, by Neil’s standards at least. Because Jean’s face is a picture of melancholic wonder.
Neil really doesn’t realized just how much he’s loved. Just how many marks he’s left on so many people’s lives. How he could never disappear, not really. Even in death.
Andrew takes his hand again. Neil squeezes it, more firmly this time. Tethered together, even as his focus is on someone else.
The drone of Neil’s heartbeat goes on and on. Badum, badum, badum. Alive, alive, alive.