Chapter Text
Chris Johnson is one of Andrew's least favorite people. And since almost everyone is his least favorite person, it's a position that's hard won. Chris received his nickname, Jonty, in college. Andrew doesn't know the reason, and honestly he couldn't care less. What he does care about is that Jonty hates going by Chris, which gives Andrew easy fuel to goad him from the goal.
Tonight, however, he's not just goading him for the fun of it. Tonight, Andrew wants to take Chris Johnson down.
Johnson is the one of the biggest players in pro Exy, and one of the biggest strikers to ever play pro Exy. He's got a good foot on Andrew at least, and while Andrew is built from years of weightlifting, Johnson is easily twice as broad. And he uses it. He's getting close to breaking Kevin's record for most goals in a season (something Kevin won't shut up about), and even his assists are higher than most active strikers. It's the way he gets those goals that makes Andrew's blood boil.
Johnson has the unofficial record for uncalled penalties. It's unofficial, of course, because he's never caught. But Andrew knows that right now, a hundred thousand fans are tweeted furiously about the illegal check he did against the Sharks' backliner in the first half. He was in plain sight of the refs, but his knee digging into Melanie's rig cage wasn't.
As the second half ramps up after the break, Andrew can’t help himself. Whenever Johnson is close enough, he bites out insults and threats. Even Levi and Uriah, his back liners, give him a couple of shocked looks. Andrew doesn’t back down. And finally.
Finally.
Johnson breaks.
“Hey Chris. Does your mom know you’re a dirty cheat-"
He doesn’t finish the sentence before Johnson is slamming him into the wall. As Andrew’s shoulder hits the plexiglass, something pops, pain spikes through his shoulder, and he can already hear Kevin’s lecture. But he doesn’t have much time to dread it, because his feet slide out from under him.
Falling seems to take an eternity. His elbow hits first, and he’s crushed into the floor by all two hundred pounds of striker. The pain doubles, triples, and Andrew has to take a couple deep breaths to keep from throwing up. The whistle blows, Andrew is vaguely aware of a red card being held up by the ref closest to them, and then his visions swims dangerously. Maybe he should’ve taken the chance to throw up all over Johnson.
Johnson takes forever to get off of him, so Andrew has enough time to get his breathing under control and his vision to clear.
He scrambles off the floor after him. His right arm protests loudly, stuck at nearly a right angle. But Andrew ignores it. “Chris.”
Johnson whirls around, eyes blazing, and Andrew takes a swing with his good hand. His knuckles connect with Johnson’s cheekbone. Johnson is obviously caught off guard and stumbles backward. Andrew follows, landing another punch and feeling his knuckles split open this time.
He's not sure how many times his fist hits Johnson's face before someone yanks him off the ground by the back of his shirt.
"Andrew. Stop." Kevin's voice bounces off of him as stares down Johnson, now being dragged away by a ref.
"Don't touch my team again," Andrew spits.
“That’s enough Minyard,” a second ref says, appearing and touching his fingertips to Andrew’s chest. “That’s a red card for both of you. Off the court. Now.”
The first ref drags Johnson off the court, and the second follows with Andrew, keeping them carefully apart as they head toward the bench. Aaron, unsurprisingly, is already there, chatting with the team PT and watching Andrew stagger his way toward them.
“You’re an idiot,” is the first thing Aaron says to him.
“Thanks,” Andrew grits. The adrenaline is fading, and the pain wants to be known. Andrew sinks to the bench and tries his best to prop his arm up higher.
James, the head PT, starts his spiel. He asks where it hurts and where on the pain scale he is and what he felt. Aaron stands by and looks over him with a clinical eye. He frowns deeply when he spots Andrew’s split knuckles where his hand is propping his elbow.
“Alright, it’s most likely dislocated, but I’m worried about this…” James waves vaguely at the angle of his arm. “So, I’m gonna send you to the hospital. Aaron, I assume you’ll want to go with him?”
Aaron nods, and James hurries off to tell coach and get the medics. Andrew’s shoulder is throbbing, and he tries to focus on the game to keep his mind off of it. But he can’t hear the thump of the ball over the thrumming of his blood.
“Andrew, can I?” Andrew looks up at Aaron’s hesitant face, hands outstretched toward his elbow. He nods, and Aaron takes over holding his arm. As they’re waiting, Aaron shifts just right, and the pain eases just a little. It’s enough to let him draw in a deep breath for the first time in twenty minutes.
“Don’t move,” Andrew snaps. Obviously misunderstanding, Aaron shifts back to where he was, and the pain spikes again. “No. Do what you just did again.” Again, the pain eases. “There. Don’t move.”
Aaron raises a disgruntled eyebrow but doesn’t move. The paramedics find them like that, towing a gurney. Andrew feels like an absolute idiot climbing onto it and being rolled through the bowels of the court and to the waiting ambulance.
Aaron has to let go once inside, but they do finally give him something for the pain and wrap his bloody hand. He’s asked all the same questions on the relatively short ride to the hospital. Without discussion, Aaron picks up where he left off, holding Andrew's arm as well as he can as they're marched into the ER at Denver North.
The lights are too bright, and it smells like alcohol wipes and metal. Andrew takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the way it all feels so sterile. So lifeless. So uninteresting. And then he sees him - a nurse with shockingly red hair and bright blue eyes. He stares back at Andrew for a long time, and Andrew cocks an eyebrow at him. A blush creeps up his neck that Andrew wishes he could see more of. But then he's being rolled behind a curtain, swarmed by doctors, and shifted off the ambulance gurney onto the ER bed.
The pain distracts him from the pretty boy, leaving him breathless and dizzy. Whatever they gave him in the ambulance was not enough, and on top of that, Andrew is reminded that he is now at the mercy of a room full of strangers who will have to poke and prod him for the next several hours.
"Up a little higher?" Andrew mumbles to Aaron. He must look really pathetic, because Aaron does it without his usual eye roll. Once again, he breathes deeply to keep from throwing up and distracts himself from the pain by listening to the paramedic recap the last hour of his life.
"Andrew Minyard. 27," he starts. "Professional Exy player. During tonight's game, he got checked into the plexiglass wall shoulder first -"
"But he's a goalie," someone blurts. Everyone's eyes swing to the blue eyed nurse now standing near Andrew's knee on the other side of a tiny blonde nurse. He smiles sheepishly, and something flickers in the back of Andrew's brain. It's gone before he can catch it, floating away on a wave of pain when Aaron shifts just slightly. "Carry on."
The paramedic raises an eyebrow. "Thanks. As I was saying, he got checked into the plexiglass wall shoulder first and slid down to the floor with the other player on top of him. Despite an obviously dislocated shoulder, he got up, punched the opposing player, and split the knuckles on his left hand. No sign of broken bones, but the knuckles will probably need stitches. No allergies. No relevant medical history. First priority is the dislocated shoulder."
A tiny woman at the foot of Andrew's bed speaks up. "Any sign of head injury - lack of consciousness, confusion?" She looks even less excited to be here than he is.
"No lack of consciousness or confusion. No sign of concussion. But it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye out for that, definitely."
"Thank you," the doctor says. The paramedics leave, a woman rolls in a cart full of supplies, and the blonde nurse starts setting up an IV. Andrew knows what's coming and that it has to happen, but he still snatches the blonde nurse's hand before she can touch his arm.
"Don't."
The nurse stays remarkably calm. "I just need to -"
"No."
The room erupts, but Andrew ignores them all, eyes fierce on the nurse. He can feel his knuckles break open again. It's only the redhead nurse stepping forward that breaks his concentration.
"Andrew," he says softly. "I need you to let her go."
"I don't like being touched," Andrew says, finally looking into those icy blue eyes. Steady. Calm.
"I understand that. Katelyn's not going to touch you. And I need you to let her go." His eyes are so…comforting? Andrew releases Katelyn's arm, she falls back, and the redhead takes her place. Andrew can't look away from him. "Ok. I understand you don't want to be touched. But to help you, we're going to have to touch you. Do you understand?"
Andrew tries not to roll his eyes. He really does. "Yes."
The nurse nods. "Good. So, here's what we'll do - and I'm going to tell every nurse, tech, and doctor working tonight. We'll tell you exactly what we're going to do - as detailed as we can. And we'll ask before we do any touching at all. If you say no, we don't touch. Ok?"
Andrew's been told this enough times that he knows the promise won't hold longer than five minutes. But he also knows that the drugs they gave him are quickly wearing off. And if he protests any longer, he may actually puke all over this gorgeous man who is oddly, terribly trustworthy.
"Ok."
He turns his attention to the small doctor at the end of the bed. He can barely make out JENSEN on her name tag. And he can already tell that he dislikes her. "Mr. Minyard, how would you rate your pain tonight?" She plants her hands on her hips, and Andrew feels like he's about to be scolded.
"I've had worse," he says.
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Fifty-two."
"Mr. Minyard."
"Fine," Andrew sighs. Aaron's arms droop, and his entire body tenses in pain. He takes stock. This isn't the worst pain he's been in. But it's up there. "Probably an eight or nine."
Dr. Jensen's only reaction is her eyebrows raising. "Right. And is there a reason -" She gestures at Aaron.
"Aaron."
"Aaron. Is there a reason that Aaron is holding your arm like that?"
"Because the pain jumps to an eleven if it's not in this exact position."
"Got it. Right. And besides your shoulder and hand, do you have any pain anywhere else?" Andrew shakes his head slowly. "Headache? Bruising where you fell?"
"Nope."
She gives one curt nod. "Alright. We'll get an x-ray set up first thing. Going to behave for Neil so he can put an IV in?" Andrew's too distracted by learning Neil's name to react to that condescension.
And he's too distracted by Neil's badly hidden eye roll to say anything more than, "Yes."
She hums. "Good. I'll be right back."
Neil composes himself and turns back to Andrew, but he doesn't linger long, eyes flitting almost immediately to Aaron. "First things first, how about we give Aaron a break from holding your arm and get you something to prop it up? Only Aaron needs to touch you for that. Yes or no?"
Andrew freezes. What are the odds that Neil would ask that? He just keeps getting hotter. Andrew nods slowly.
"Great!" another nurse chirps. "Katelyn, come help me track down something to prop his arm up, yeah?"
They hurry out, and it's just Andrew, Aaron, and Neil left in the bay. Andrew can't keep his eyes off of Neil. Up close, he notices the scars littering every visible piece of skin. Interesting. He's jittery, but his hands are steady. Andrew has a feeling he's someone who has endless amounts of energy.
He turns those big blue eyes on Andrew again as he snaps a pair of gloves on. "Alright, I'm going to feel your arm for a vein. Yes or no?"
"Yes."
He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His fingers on the inside of Andrew's elbow are clinical but gentle. When he hits the arm band, he pauses. "Can I take this off?"
"No."
Neil blinks. Andrew blinks. It's such a practiced response that it came out automatically. Of course, he knows that in order to get an IV, he has to at least move the arm band. But he's curious suddenly how Neil will react to this. Andrew watches a million emotions flash through Neil's eyes. The last one is understanding. Andrew wants to punch him.
"Ok. That's fine." Andrew blinks at him again. Fine? That's fine? Who is this guy?
Aaron shifts. "Come on, Andrew, just let him take the stupid thing off. He's a nurse. He's seen worse. I mean, look at his face." Neil's face twitches just slightly, and Andrew makes a mental note to tell Aaron off for that later.
"No," he says instead.
"It's fine. He said no," Neil says. Andrew's not sure how to feel about this. "Can I suggest this then? I can get to this vein, but I do need a little more room to tape the IV down, so it doesn't move or come out. So, what about if I just fold the top of this arm band down a couple inches?"
Andrew searches Neil's face for any pity or trace of a lie. There's nothing. So, he says, "Yes."
Neil carefully folds down the top couple inches. He walks Andrew through the process slowly, not performing a step until Andrew gives his consent. Andrew watches his furrowed brow and the way his lips move when he's counting to himself. There's something about him that Andrew can't put his finger on.
Katelyn and the other nurse come bustling back in with another IV pole and a pile of linens. The nurse sets her pile on the end of the bed. "Alright, Andrew, this is our thought. We're going to pile these under your shoulder to support the elbow. And then Katelyn, here, has a sling we're going to loop around your wrist and hang on the IV rack. Then we can adjust it up and down depending on where it needs to be. Sound good?"
"Yes." Moving that much is the last thing he wants to do, but if it means he has a steadier prop and pain meds faster, it's worth it.
"Before we get that all set up," Neil says quickly. "Can we get your jersey off? It's best if it's all the way, but if it's going to be too painful to get over your shoulder, half off is fine. I just need to get these on your chest." He holds up little circles on wires that Andrew can't begin to guess the purpose of.
Andrew's mouth is opening before he can stop it. "If you wanted me to undress, you could've just asked."
Neil goes completely still. "Um."
Aaron huffs. "Geez, Andrew, stop flirting and start stripping. My arms are tired."
Andrew rolls his eyes and leans forward carefully. Neil and Katelyn help him tug the jersey over his head. It's excruciating, and Andrew's puffing by the end. He collapses back against the bed and stares at the ceiling.
The pile of linens slides under his arm, replacing Aaron's hands. Katelyn slides his hand through a sling tied to the IV stand. They step back. It helps. It's steadier, and some of the tension leaks from Andrew's muscles.
"Perfect. I'm going to check with Dr. Jensen on that x-ray." Andrew opens his eyes just long enough to watch the other nurse leave.
Neil's voice is soft when he says, "Andrew, I'm going to place these electrodes on your chest. And I need your pointer finger for this clip monitor as well." Andrew nods, but Neil doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Yes or no, Andrew?"
Andrew looks over at him. And for a moment, he can't quite keep the walls up. He's so earnest. Genuine. And he has the feeling he can read Andrew like a book. "Yes."
Neil is careful with the little circles, pressing them softly to Andrew's chest and clipping the heart monitor to his index finger. Another flicker of recognition tickles the back of Andrew's mind, but it's once again flicked away by a flare of pain.
"Alright. Katelyn is going to get some pain meds started in your IV. That should kick in soon and help with some of that pain." Andrew nods. "I'll be back."
Neil slips out of the bay, and Katelyn takes his spot. Aaron clears his throat pointedly.
Andrew rolls his eyes, contemplates ignoring him, and decides to be a decent human being for once. Bee will be so proud. "Your arm?" he asks.
Katelyn glances at him, startled. "Um. It's fine. Not the first patient to grab me unfortunately."
"Idiots." He hopes she sees it as the confession it is. And the apology. Andrew might be better at communication than he was in college, but he's not perfect.
The way Katelyn looks at him, he's fairly sure she gets it. And then she says, "It's ok. Usually, it's because they're in pain or scared. I don't hold it against them."
Andrew keeps his face blank, but so many emotions are roiling through his chest. His first instinct is to shove them aside, but the thought of telling Bee that in their next appointment has him pulling them back out and filtering through them one at a time.
He's still pissed off from the game. He hates that he let Johnson get to him, but it was satisfying at least. Bee won't be happy that he used violence as an emotional outlet, and Kevin is no doubt mad that he got kicked out the game. But the satisfaction is something he can't ignore, no matter how much he wishes he wouldn't let things get to him. Of course, he's learning to be ok with the fact that things - like Exy and his team - mean something to him.
The next emotion is fear. He hates that, too. Hates being afraid. Hates feeling anything at all. But the pain is so much. And the hospital is full of strange people he can't trust, won't trust. Has to trust. At least he has Aaron. And even the confession of that inside the privacy of his own mind is irritating. Terrifying. Amazing. They've come a long way since their reunion as teens. Maybe one day he'll be able to tell Aaron that he…well, maybe he'll figure out what Aaron means to him. Not tonight. That's too much for tonight.
The other emotions are scattered. Guilt over grabbing Katelyn. Anxiety about his shoulder. Exhaustion. Though he's not sure that's an emotion. And frustration. Frustration that that little thing tickling his mind is floating just out of reach. His eidetic memory has always been a blessing and a curse. He remembers the bad just as much as the good. His mind supplies him with helpful tidbits and not so helpful tidbits.
And there's something about Neil that he knows. Whatever it is keeps getting batted away by waves of pain. And it's only once he feels the pain meds trickle through his veins from where Katelyn has pressed them into his IV that his mind clears a little. The pain in his shoulder dulls again, more this time than in the ambulance. The exhaustion sets in heavier, too, and he slouches back farther into the bed. Katelyn gives him a small smile, flicks one at Aaron, too, and disappears behind the curtain.
It's not two minutes later that Aaron's phone rings insistently. "It's Nicky."
"Fine."
Nicky's voice is shrill and hysterical when Aaron answers. They let him panic himself out with only little interjections to show they're still listening. He's winding down when the curtain parts and Neil enters with another cart full of supplies.
This time the recognition hits Andrew like a truck. His hair is longer, but those icy blue eyes haven't changed a bit since the trials seven years ago. Andrew has to take a couple deep breaths to keep the shock from showing on his face.
Kevin was hesitant to watch the trials at first. He was always hesitant to do anything even tangentially close to the Moriyamas. No surprise, of course. And with the death of the Butcher so close to the death of Riko, he was extra opposed. But then he heard that Nathaniel Wesninksi was going to take the stand to testify against the Butcher's inner circle. He wanted to know how the little boy he met once had fared after escaping.
The stories Nathaniel told in his testimony didn't exactly paint the picture of a perfect childhood far away from the mafia as Kevin had once thought. His scars, some still fresh, dared everyone in the courtroom to doubt him. No one did.
After the verdict, Nathanial Wesninski fell off the face of the earth. Kevin didn't talk about it much, at least with Andrew. And Andrew didn't bring it up.
Now, staring at Neil, he connects some dots. And he stares at him in a whole new light as Nicky babbles on in the background. He tunes back in just as Nicky says, "That would've crushed me. To know that I didn't know while I was asleep. That I didn't call or check in."
Before he can keep going, Andrew interrupts. "Nicky. I'm fine." He can't keep his eyes off of Neil as he arranges all of his supplies meticulously.
"I know you always say that, but a dislocated shoulder, Andrew. That's -"
"And he needs stitches on his knuckles." Andrew tears his eyes from Neil to glare at Aaron on principle.
Nicky gets more hysterical. "What? Stitches? You punched him so hard you need stitches? I don't - I don't know what to do with you. You just had to piss of Jonty of all players, didn't you?"
Neil's head snaps up, and Andrew doesn't need to be looking closely to see the shock and awe on his face. "You got checked into the wall by Chris Johnson?"
Ah, so he's an Exy fan. Of course he would be. The flash of glee in Neil's eyes has that satisfaction rearing its head again. "Yes. Got him red carded and thrown out of the game for checking the goalie."
"And got himself a red card for punching his lights out," Aaron grumbles.
Nicky, obviously feeling left out, pipes up. "Wait, who is that? Who are we talking to?"
"Neil. One of Andrew's nurses." Aaron holds his phone out, and Andrew has to hold in a snort at the utter bemusement on Neil's face.
"Um. Hi?" He looks at Andrew like he might be able to save him. Andrew's not in the mood. If Andrew has to deal with Nicky's hysterics, Neil does, too.
"Ooh, he sounds cute." Oh, he is. But he'd never tell Nicky he thinks that. He'd never hear the end of it.
"Nicky, you're married," Aaron reminds him.
Nicky giggles. "Not for me, silly. For Andrew. God knows he needs some -"
Aaron, mercifully, hangs up. "And that's enough of that."
"You're going to get several angry voicemails."
"I don't care," Aaron mutters.
Neil, now on a rolling stool at the side of the bed, speaks up. "Alright, I'm going to unwrap your hand, ok? See what I have to work with."
Andrew nods and watches Neil closely as he unwraps the bandages. He looks softer than he did during the trials. His mind, now easily supplying images, conjures up the sharpness of Nathaniel's glare and the tension in every muscle as he sat on the stand. Neil is focused as he takes in the torn skin on Andrew's knuckles, but he's calm. The frenetic energy thrumming through him earlier seems to have ebbed.
He's steady. That’s the word. Neil is steady.
"How many times did you punch Jonty?" Neil asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. He pats at Andrew's knuckles with an alcohol pad, and Andrew tries to ignore the sting.
"Mm. Five or six."
Aaron scoffs. "Try ten. I wasn't kidding when I said he punched his lights out."
Neil shakes his head and grabs a needle. "I'm going to put some local anesthetic around here to numb it while I clean them and put stitches in."
Andrew nods and watches his carful movements. The fear and anxiety flare a bit with the skin contact and trust he has to give to let Neil this close. But Neil keeps his promise, telling him every step he's going to take before he does. Even then, he can feel the tension clenching his muscles.
Aaron snorts a few minutes in, pulling Andrew's attention to him. "Kevin's pissed that you're not answering your phone."
"It's still at the stadium."
"Yeah, I told him. Now he's just pissed that you're injured. I'll let you read his scolding later. Although, he'll probably show up here and do it himself." Aaron sighs. "He must have told everyone else I'm with you. Because now I'm being flooded with texts. I thought I got away from this when the group chat died out. I'm not your secretary, Andrew."
"Not my fault."
"Kinda your fault." He sits up straighter. "Abby is asking for all the medical things - how many stitches, what the x-ray looks like. Wymack just called you an idiot. So did Allison. Dan sent a selfie of her and Boyd looking all concerned and shit, asking how you are. Renee just said to have you call her when you get your phone back."
It's still odd, all these years later, to be on the receiving end of the Foxes' care and concern. It hadn't started out that way, of course. And he's still a bit murky on the details of how monsters became a term of endearment instead of an insult. He knew that Wymack and Renee definitely had something to do with it - the highly encouraged team bonding, the way Nicky bonded with the upperclassmen, the way the team came together after Riko's death and banded behind Kevin after the funeral.
The Foxes are still Foxes for a reason, of course. And there have been falling outs and coming back togethers. But they always come back together, usually with a bottle of alcohol as penance. They support each other. And while the aforementioned group chat did in fact die out soon after Andrew graduated, he still gets random texts from Matt about his next game or from Allison about how good he looked in his most recent cover shoot.
Andrew doesn't say anything to Aaron's update, but he's sure Aaron isn't expecting him to. Andrew will reply or not reply if he wants to once he has his phone back.
Aaron seems to get bored with his phone and pockets it, turning his attention on Neil. "So. Neil." Neil hums. "You're an Exy fan?'
Neil chuckles. "How could you tell?"
"Well," Aaron starts, counting off on his fingers. "You knew Andrew was a goalie. You recognized Jonty's name. And I could see the manic glee that only fans get in their eyes when I named off our college teammates. So, not only are you an Exy fan, you're a collegiate Exy fan. And that's a whole separate breed of Exy fan, in my opinion."
Andrew watches for any reaction on Neil's face, but he's obviously well versed in concealing emotions. And his voice is flat when he says, "Exy has gotten me through some hard times in my life. Let's just say that."
"Hard times?" Aaron asks. Andrew throws him a look, but Aaron just shrugs.
Neil is quiet for a moment, pulling carefully on a knot in his stitches. After a moment, he waves vaguely at his face, gives Aaron a pointed look, and goes back to his work. "I played Exy when I was younger, actually. Thought I would go pro someday. But…life had other plans, you could say."
Andrew zeroes in on this little nugget of information. It's a truth. Not only does Andrew know that it is, he can hear the truth of it in his voice. Of course he played Exy as a kid. He played Exy with Kevin. And the "other plans" were, of course, the years of running and hiding from his serial killer father.
"And what made you want to be a nurse?" Andrew asks, his curiosity winning out. The son of a serial killer working in the medical field feels both right and wrong. What story has Neil concocted for the life he's living now?
"My mother was a doctor. Wanted to help people like she did." He seems oddly choked up.
"Didn't want to be a doctor?" Andrew's not sure why he's pressing this. He knows Neil's lying for a reason - to be safe. But it still makes his skin crawl. "You see, Aaron, here, is a doctor. And he says the same thing. Wants to help people. But I think it's because he has a bit of a God complex."
Neil latches onto that bit of information. "Doctor? Do you work at this hospital? I haven't seen you around."
"No. St. Joseph's. I'm interning as a neurosurgeon."
"Do you know Jill Matheson?"
"Um. Yeah."
"I did my clinicals at St. Joseph's and spent my first two years as a nurse in the psych ward there." Andrew tenses, and his hand twitches. Neil stops, glances up. Andrew keeps his face blank. "Um, and one of the doctors I worked with in psych - Joan Kettering - is Jill's wife."
"Hmm. Small world." Aaron is starting to get bored. He fidgets a little and stands. "I'm going to find some coffee. I'll be back."
There's a spike of apprehension as the curtain falls closed. But he finds he feels oddly…alright with just Neil. The lying is still poking at him. He knows why. He understands even if he hates it. But that's not the issue. Neil can't tell the truth. He doesn't feel safe enough to tell the truth. Andrew hates that more than anything. He knows that feeling.
"You were lying."
Neil frowns and gives him a look. "Was I?"
"Yes." He gestures at Neil's face with his chin. "Scars like those tell a different story."
"They just tell more of a story. Doesn't mean the rest of it isn't true."
Andrew stares at Neil. Neil stares back. The contest is broken when Dr. Jensen reappears, announcing that they're ready for an x-ray and pulling the curtain open to reveal a sci-fi looking contraption and a large man with a truly annoying smile.
Dr. Jensen defers silently to Neil. Andrew tries not to read too much into that.
"Andrew, we're going to have to move you a little to get some panels in place. That ok?"
It's not, but he can't exactly avoid getting an x-ray. So, he nods and grits his teeth while Katelyn and the man - who cheerfully introduces himself as Bob - maneuver him gently to place panels behind his shoulder. Bob is almost as good as Neil, pausing that extra beat until Andrew nods.
It hurts like hell. And it takes all of his self control not to snap at everything. He pushes all of the emotions aside to parse through later and focuses on the bright, distracting blue eyes that follow his every move. Neil hovers on the edges the whole time, that frenetic energy thrumming under his skin again. It's captivating, and Andrew's so interested in Neil that he's almost surprised when Katelyn pulls the panels out and adjusts the sling.
Unfortunately, she adjusts the sling just sightly too low, and the pain lingers again, pinching and aching. She's gone before he can ask her to move it, and Neil distracts him once again by sliding back onto his stool.
"I'm going to wrap these back up with some clean bandages. Ok?"
"Ok."
Neil's fingers are back on his wrist, gentle and soft as he winds gauze around and around. "You'll want to keep the area dry for a day or two. And we'll get you an appointment to have them taken out in about a week."
"Not the first time I've had stitches."
"I'm sure you have good scar stories." Neil's entire body flinches, and Andrew feels it like a slap to his face. He's very aware of just how close Neil's hand is to his physical scars. And he wonders honestly what Neil would think about his mental ones. With his past, he might actually accept them. But he's not about to find out.
When Neil places his hand carefully back on the bed, Andrew's brought back to his body and the pain dripping down his shoulder blade. Neil notices, because of course he does.
"Does you arm need to go up higher?"
"It's fine." It is. And he's had worse.
"I can adjust it," Neil says earnestly, hurrying around the bed. "Yes or no?"
Andrew wants to resist. He doesn’t need it. But he says "Yes" anyway.
Neil inches the IV pole up. "There?"
The pain fades to the background, and he involuntarily lets his head rest back against the bed. "Yeah."
"Better, isn't it?"
"I've had worse."
Neil frowns. Andrew wishes he would smile. "Just because you've been in pain before, doesn't mean you need to be in pain now."
Andrew cuts him a look. He sounds far too much like Bee.
The curtain opens again, and Aaron and Katelyn enter. They're laughing. He has to tamp down the flare of…something that erupts in his chest seeing Aaron so happy. Bee would probably call it jealousy. Andrew prefers to call it stupid.
Dr. Jensen, the other nurse, and a new doctor follow them. This doctor looks much more interested that Dr. Jensen. She even smiles when she stops at the end of the bed.
“Mr. Minyard. We’ve reviewed your x-Ray, and I am impressed with the level of dislocation you managed.” She mirrors Andrew's arm position. “So, you’ve got your clavicle and shoulder blade right next to each other here. You’ve managed to wedge your upper arm in between those. It’s bone on bone in there. So, I’m not surprised you can’t move it out of that exact position without immense pain.”
Andrew watches a grimace cross Neil's face, followed by an impressed look. He tries not to laugh.
“No broken bones though. So, we’ll just need to pop it back into place. Let it rest for a bit, and you’ll be good to go.”
Dr. Jensen moves forward. “So, the plan is to sedate you -"
Andrew's entire body goes cold, and he chokes back vomit to say, “No.”
Dr. Jensen looks like she's contemplating murder. “Mr. Minyard. It’s going to be a very painful process -"
“I said no.” He wishes he couldn't hear his heart rate beeping rapidly next to him.
Neil steps into his line of sight. “Andrew, do you trust me?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Can you trust me for the next twenty minutes?”
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
The problem is that he does trust Neil. A little, at least. He’s done everything right tonight. But this is different. This is too much. The thought of being unconscious and not in charge of his own body makes his stomach roll and his vision swim.
Neil considers for a long moment before setting his jaw. “Andrew, if you say no, we don’t sedate you. We can’t do anything without your permission. But I want you to think about this. We’ll give you as many pain killers as we can, but you’re already on a pretty high dose. And this -" Neil lifts Andrew's hand up half an inch, and pain spikes through his shoulder and down through his back. “- still hurts, doesn’t it?”
Andrew gives him his deadliest glare, but Neil just stares back at him. Steady. Calm.
“Multiply that by five at least. Or give me twenty minutes of trust. I’ll make sure no one touches you unnecessarily. Aaron can stay if you want. Make sure I’m keeping my promise.”
Aaron catches his eyes when he looks at him around Neil's arm and nods. Twenty minutes. Can he give Neil twenty minutes of this kind of trust? Can he trust Aaron to step in if something happens? The pain is still throbbing where Neil moved his arm.
He finally nods slowly.
“Great. I’ll call the anesthesiologist,” Dr. Jensen says. Everyone files out again. Even Neil and Aaron leave together. And Andrew is left alone to breathe through the panic gripping his chest.
Aaron returns a few minutes later, his empty coffee cup crunched into itself in his hand. He levels a look at Andrew, eyes scanning his face until he finally says, "I don't understand you."
"You never have. And you don't need to."
Lips pressed into a line, he takes the plastic chair near the curtain and fiddles with the destroyed coffee cup. He doesn't look mad. He looks pensive. Frustrated. Andrew wishes he could explain, he really does. But not now. Not when his heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest.
"You'll watch them?" Andrew asks after a moment. He hates how the dread leaks into his voice.
Aaron notices, of course, head whipping up and staring at him with wide eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'll watch them."
The anesthesiologist is brought in by Neil, and he walks through the process softly and precisely. Andrew can't stop his hands from shaking, but he can glare at everyone and let them know exactly how he feels about this. Neil gets most of them, and he's almost always looking back. Andrew hates him.
Just the oxygen mask going on spikes his heart rate. But then he feels the drugs dripping into his veins. And at first, it feels like the drugs he was on in college. His vision blurs, Neil's face warps slightly. His last though is that it's not fair that Neil's still so beautiful.
And then he’s drifting.
The first thing he hears is a soft, melodic voice shushing softly. His eyes are still adjusting when he blinks them open, and he's slightly confused by Abby standing over him. Did he get knocked out on the court?
"Abby?"
The woman, now more in focus and definitely not Abby laughs. "No quite, hon."
Another voice says something to his right and the woman responds, but Andrew can't make either out. His brain wants to go back to sleep. But then there's a man's face leaning over him and someone's yelling, and there's a crash and a bang.
Andrew, forgetting completely that he's on a fairly narrow bed, shrinks away from the man as far as he can. He has to catch himself on his elbow, and it’s the flare of pain that brings in him into the present.
Neil shouts, "Don’t hold him down. Don’t hold him down. Don’t! Just give him a second." And Andrew wants to punch him for being so good.
He falls back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and ignore the rapid beeping near his ear. He's vaguely aware of a swarm of people around him and Neil moving up toward his head.
"Andrew?" Andrew grunts. "Do you remember where you are?"
"Hospital."
“Yes. Your shoulder's back in place but it’s going to be sore for a while. So, it’s in a sling for now.”
Huh. He is in a sling. That means… He swallows hard against the thought of someone's hands on him.
Andrew finds Neil near his good shoulder and stares at him. “Did you keep your promise?”
Aaron answers for him. “He did.”
Andrew nods. “Can I leave now?”
“Just one more x-Ray to make sure everything looks good, and then yes. You can go home.”
The second x-ray is much like the first, but thankfully with less pain. Bob seems to be losing steam, but his grin stays firmly in place. Andrew keeps staring at Neil, trying to figure him out, trying to commit him to memory, even though he knows those blue eyes will haunt him forever.
After the x-ray, Neil disappears, and he's left with Aaron to wait for the x-ray to be looked at.
"How did it go?" Andrew asks.
Aaron frowns. "It was brutal. Took a lot of yanking. But Neil was careful. He made sure it was the least amount of people touching you as possible. And he did everything after - moved your arm, put the sling on, all of that."
Andrew hums.
"You…" Aaron chews on his cheek. "You like him, don't you?"
Andrew raises an eyebrow. He's not as weirded out by Andrew liking guys as he was in high school and college. But they've never been the kind of people to talk about their crushes or love lives. "I don't know what you mean."
Aaron glares at him. "You do. But whatever."
Neil reappears later, and he hates that he can hear his heart rate jump.
"I can go soon, right?"
Aaron rolls his eyes, and he hopes it's not because he also noticed the beeping get faster.
Neil doesn't get to answer, because there's a commotion past the curtain that he ducks out to check on. Andrew sighs when he hears Kevin' voice thundering down the ER.
"He'll see me. I'm sure of it. Just - there you are!" Kevin appears in the curtain, held back by an absolutely dumbstruck Neil. Neil throws a look at Andrew, waits for Kevin to step forward into the bay, and drops the curtain.
Kevin starts in on his spiel and only pauses long enough for Dr. Jensen to let him know he can go home. He chatters through his discharge papers and instructions and gapes when Dr. Jensen says he shouldn't play for at least twelve weeks. He's so distracted with trying not to punch Kevin in the mouth that it takes him until he's all the way home to realize he hadn't seen Neil again.
He hadn't said goodbye.