Archive of Our Own

It started, as all great philosophical debates do, with a bet.

After the championship was won and the dust of all that came after settled, things got easier. Team bonding was no longer a thing , forced and bothersome and unruly, but just something they did. There were growing pains and spats, but the Foxes were stronger together, a little fact that no longer needed stating. Nothing could ever break the welding between them, forged in fire and terror and love despite it all. 

Foxes , they called themselves— family, it started to sound. 

They were in the common room of Fox Tower, celebrating the end of the semester. The elation and relief of finished exams mixing with the still lingering pride of championships. They were winners against the odds, still no one could say the word without a smile. They drank and ate too much junk food, the low music mixing with loud laughter as they played stupid games with stupider rules that Kevin treated as common sense.

It was late in the night but early in their celebrations when Neil and Andrew slipped away as they so often did. Disappearing to a place they never bothered to share. 

In the midst of the tipsiness and their bickering it took them a moment to notice, and finally it was Nicky who did.

“ Hey ,” he pouted, holding a seltzer to his chest as if were a stuffed animal, turning in a circle like a child lost in a department store. “They left.”

“Who?” Matt asked, looking around the room to do a headcount but his eyes were too unfocused to finish the job.

“Them,” Nicky repeated with no elaboration but the others were starting to catch on, noticing that there was now only one set of auburn and blond hair when there should’ve been two. It was rare that Aaron bothered to stay with the team so late but no one was misled as to the reason why. With Katelyn in his lap he’d stay in that armchair until his body atrophied. Now that Andrew had let him slip the leash, Aaron refused to be anywhere but by her side when given the chance.

And his twin was missing, as was their Neil.

Nicky slumped down on the couch, the picture of despair. “They hate us,” he lamented.

“No,” Matt said, tone that of a parent correcting a toddler.

“They always disappear.”

“We’re Foxes. They looove us,” Dan added, boozy giggles slipping out with the words. 

Nicky pouted harder. “They only love each other.”

A snort, from the loveseat where Allison was laying like a model from a magazine. Silky blonde hair splayed out around her like a waterfall, legs draped over the arm of the couch. 

“As if,” she said, voice dripping in amusement. 

“What?” Nicky’s sadness transformed into petulance.

“Those two little psychos don’t have the right parts to love each other. Neil’s heart is only big enough to hold an exy ball and Andrew’s is desiccating behind an electric fence.”

“They’re in a relationship.”

“They’re having hate sex,” Allison waved a hand through the air. “Very different.”

“We are not talking about this,” Aaron announced, disgust pulling on his face. Katelyn patted his thigh in comfort, everyone else ignored him. 

“ Hate sex ,” Nicky repeated, eyebrows drawn like he was working through a math problem. “Maybe at first, but not anymore.” He searched the room for support. Matt was nodding in agreement but Dan was looking at Allison, her mouth downturned in a poorly suppressed smile. “They’re soulmates.” 

Aaron scoffed. “More like they’re each other’s karmic punishment.”

Dan laughed. “Their bullshit makes both of them irredeemable red flags. No sane person would get involved.”

“Betrayed by their very own captain,” Nicky admonished.

Dan held up her hands in surrender, leaning back against Matt in their spot on the other side of the coffee table. “Nothing against them, I just can’t see it. Neil has a one track mind and Andrew is a brick wall.”

“They’re always together though,” Matt pointed out, face serious in contemplation.

“You mean the two people with dysfunctional separation issues? Yeah, wonder why that is,” Allison said tonelessly. Matt threw a bottle cap at her, making her squeal.

“Admit it, have you ever seen them do anything remotely coupley?” Dan asked.

“Baltimore,” Matt supplied.

“Other than that. Extenuating circumstances, Neil almost came back to us in a bodybag.”

“Andrew came back to our room with wet hair wearing Neil’s clothes.”

“That just means they were doing—” Allison waggled her eyebrows, “other activities.”

“Andrew would only ever wear Neil’s ugly fucking clothes out of sheer desperation,” Aaron agrees.

“This is boring,” Kevin interrupted, finally looking up from his personal vodka bottle. The looks they sent him made it clear how they felt about a buzzkill ruining their gossiping.
“We’re doing both of them a disservice speculating like this,” Renee added. No one could glare at Renee—except Neil, but he wasn’t here, which was kinda the whole point.

Allison shrugged. “Noted, babe, but it’s not speculation if we’re stating facts.”

“You guys are blind. They’re in love, ” Nicky doubled down. He couldn’t imagine either Neil or Andrew using that word but there was no other one for it. Not with the way they acted about each other.

“You really believe that?” Allison asked.

“ Ab-so-lute-ly .” 

“Let’s bet on it then. Hate sex or love, everyone has to call it.”

Matt drained the rest of his beer and tossed it into the trashcan across the room. “Love.” 

Dan wiped stray droplets off Matt’s chin. “Sex.” 

“Second-ed,” Allison said. 

Warm with a buzz that only alcohol and gambling could produce, Nicky countered with vehemence, “ Love .” 

They all looked next to him at Kevin, still nursing his alcohol with a frown. When he opened his mouth Allison cut him off, “Insider trading. You’re out.”

“You’re all idiots.” Kevin rolled his eyes and tipped the bottle to his mouth.

When eyes turned to Aaron he stared straight at Allison and said, “It’s not hate sex.”

“What the fuck,” she demanded at his turncoating, sitting up straight.

“ Ha!” Nicky cheered, his smile so big it was almost creepy. Matt watched on, wide eyed.

“You of all people should get it,” Dan said incredulously.

Aaron let himself smirk a little. “And I do.”

“Insider trading?” Dan asked Allison, who shook her head. “He doesn’t know shit.”

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we,” Aaron challenged.

“If it’s not sex, you have to say what it is.”

Aaron wouldn’t rise to the bait, he was done putting words in Andrew’s mouth and he knew love wouldn’t be in his twin’s vocabulary anytime soon. “It’s not just sex, it’s more. A lot more.” It’s everything . 

Allison made a face of blatant disbelief but moved on, like she found him boring as well as stupid. Katelyn waved them past her. “I don’t know either of them, really.”

Which left Renee, but she just smiled. “I’ll sit out too.”

Allison nodded. “May those with working eyes win.”

1: Dan

The stars are brighter out on the beach, even with the bonfire raging. Dan appreciates the tall pillar of flame from where she’s tucked into Matt’s side, jostling gently each time he throws in another piece of firewood.

She’s warm, wrapped in the laughter of her friends, lulled by a contentedness that had once been a rarity throughout her life but is slowly becoming more familiar.

The group decided that with the end of the semester—and the school year from hell—that they deserved a trip. The hard part came when agreeing on a destination, what with the opinionatedness and stubbornness that the Foxes are known to have in spades. In the end they settled on Florida, per the suggestion of Renee, and have since sunken into the rest and relaxation that a beach vacation orders. 

It’s only the first night, but everyone is in relatively good spirits and they haven’t tried to kill each other yet, so Dan considers it an overwhelming success. The Foxes’ luck has always been quick to run out, but lately the tides have been turning and she dares to hope that they’ll make it out of this week unscathed. For the most part. 

Almost all of them are gathered around the fire, with a few key monsters missing, but Dan doesn’t worry, knowing they’ll make an appearance eventually. Across the fire Allison and Nicky are gesticulating passionately, in the throws of some debate that Dan only catches snippets of, like when Allison all but gags, “A perm, Nicky? Get real.” Aaron and Katelyn are snuggled in close together, an act of bravery that Dan has yet to decide if Aaron will maintain when his brother arrives, but she’s curious to see which wins, his rebellion or self-preservation. On the other side of Dan sits Renee, meditatively piercing marshmallows onto skewers for their s’mores. Balancing the skewers in one hand, she slips the sleeve of graham crackers out of the box and shuffles around.

“Dan?”

“Mh?”

“Where’s the chocolate?” 

Dan pulls away from Matt, his arm tightening instinctively around her before letting go. She rummages through their little pile of supplies, digging in the sand just to make sure it didn’t accidentally get buried.

“Shit. Must’ve left it at the house, I’ll go grab it.”

As Dan stands Renee smiles at her, “Thank you.”

Dan slides her hand across the back of Matt’s shoulders as she leaves behind the warm fire, the chill from the shore nipping at her clothes as she jogs back to the beach-front rental just behind them. She’s just hopped off the sand and onto the stone pathway that winds through the bushes to the back patio when she comes across the missing members of their troupe.

She smiles at Kevin as he passes her, Neil and Andrew not far behind.

“Who’s chasing you?” Neil asks. 

There’s a hint of amusement on his face but it’s undercut by something grim, making him seem pale in the moonlight. Despite his late attempts to be less reserved, Dan still finds it difficult to read him. It’s still rare to see any overt sign of joy on his face off the exy court, but slowly he’s been offering his smiles more freely, letting loose the tight hold he once kept on himself, slackening the restraints that kept him separate from the rest of the Foxes. He’s been trying and Dan appreciates the effort. She’s prouder of him than he would ever let her verbalize. 

“Funny. Soon you’ll be hosting SNL.” Dan shoves his shoulder, noting the tenseness of his muscles. Her eyes track his rigid posture and the hands buried deep in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Worry flickers in her gut but she reminds herself that the Foxes have him, he’s safe.

“SNL?” He asks shamelessly, not a shred of recognition.

She sighs. “Right. We’ll work on that. Enjoy the fire, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Neil nods and continues down the path, Kevin already long gone and Andrew waiting on the sand.

She hops up the steps to the patio and slips through the sliding glass door into the living room. The house isn’t huge but it’s more than large enough to comfortably accommodate all of them. And it’s nicer than it has any reason to be, thanks to Allison. Dan crosses the intricate tile flooring into the gleaming kitchen. It takes a few minutes of sorting through all their bags of snacks, supplies, and alcohol to find where the chocolate is hiding. But when she does, she lets out a victorious whoop and grabs a bag of Reese’s for good measure, then beelines it back outside. 

She’s just making her way back down the landscaped walkway when Neil comes barrelling off the sand, a sick look on his face as he stumbles onto the stone. His sneaker catches on an uneven ridge and he falls to his knees. He doesn’t try to get up, torso heaving with erratic breaths.

“Neil! ”

Dan rushes forward but Andrew and Matt appear only a second later. Before Dan can get to him, Matt is at his side, face pinched with worry. He reaches out to place a soothing hand on his back, only to find Andrew in his way, cleanly intercepting the attempt.

“Back up, Boyd,” he demands curtly. It’s the only acknowledgement Andrew gives either of them and Matt obeys. Even in the height of his concern, he knows better than to ignore an order like that. He takes a step back, leaving enough room for Andrew to get by, but doesn’t relent more than that, eyes never leaving Neil.

“What happened?” Dan asks, joining Matt at his side and unwilling to risk Andrew’s protective streak by getting closer. She tries to reconcile the Neil from just a minute ago to the person hyperventilating on all fours now. Matt sends her a wild look, running a hand through his hair. It’s not unusual for Neil’s behavior to mystify them all—except Andrew apparently—that doesn’t make it any less frustrating though.

Andrew squats in front of Neil, placing a heavy hand on the back of his neck and pushing him down further. Neil’s forearms lay flat against the ground, his forehead nearly touching the stone.

“Breathe,” Andrew orders. His fingers tap the nape of Neil’s neck in a slow, steady rhythm. Neil makes a sound like he’s choking and Andrew shakes him gently. “Breathe, idiot.”

Neil’s hand comes up to hold the fabric of Andrew’s sleeve in a tight grip, his knuckles white, and takes his first deep breath. He keeps at it, matching the slow tempo of the tapping, and gradually his breaths even out, slowly surfacing from whatever panic had a hold of him.

The tension bleeds out of his body and he caves in on himself.

“You and Aaron,” Andrew scoffs. “Pathetic.”

“Not the same,” Neil disputes, the words thick in his throat, picking up some conversation that Dan doesn’t have the context for.

“Hardly,” Andrew says in a bored tone. He moves his hand and Neil drops his sleeve, but Andrew doesn’t pull away. His fingers go to Neil’s hair instead, loosely gripping the strands. He stands but doesn’t let go until he’s pulled Neil up into a sitting position—kneeling really.

“You okay, bud?” Matt ventures.

Neil looks over at them for the first time, but his gaze only sticks for a second before sliding away. He nods, more subdued than Dan has seen him in a long time. Andrew is quick to steal back his attention.

“Once a liar. Maybe I should put you out of your misery and just kill you myself. Get it over with.” 

“ Andrew,” Dan scolds, horrified, ready to tell him to leave if he’s not going to be helpful.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and our plane home will go down,” Neil responds, the color returning to his face now. He’s still on his knees, staring up at Andrew with defiance sparkling in those ice blue eyes, along with something else.

“I’d rather push you off the roof. See how stupid you look splattered on the concrete, it’d solve a lot of problems.”

Dan is about to step in and tell him to fuck off, but Neil beats her to it.

“But not all of them. You’d only be rid of me if I dragged you down too.”

Something ticks in Andrew’s jaw. “You’re a disease,” he says flatly, but his voice is rougher than usual. He turns and disappears up the path toward the house. Neil ducks his head for a moment, expression hidden but body more relaxed than before. When he moves to get up Matt is there instantly to offer him a hand. Neil accepts it with a nod.

Relief wars with annoyance in Dan’s mind, but with the monster gone her concern for Neil takes priority and she’s just glad that whatever episode that was has passed. 

“You sure you’re all right?” Dan asks, skepticism plain in her voice.

Neil opens his mouth, then pauses. After a beat he settles on, “I will be.”

Matt claps his shoulder and Dan waves the chocolate. “S’more?” But Neil shakes his head.

“I can’t be out there right now.”

“We can come in,” Dan offers, sure that Neil shouldn’t be alone. Neil’s eyes flick to the house.

“Don’t. Have fun with the others. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Dan wants to press him, to insist that he let them distract him, let them offer whatever comfort they can, but Neil’s never reacted well to their coddling, overbearing as it often is. She’ll just have to trust that he’ll let them know if there’s anything they can do.

“Okay,” Dan concedes, trying to give him his space. “Get some rest.”

“Enjoy your night,” he says, then retreats to the house. They watch him go until he’s out of sight.

“What happened?” Dan demands, spinning on her boyfriend.

Matt shrugs unhelpfully. “I’m not sure, we were just sitting on the sand. When they came over he looked far away, too in his head, but he didn’t say anything when he sat down. After a minute he started breathing fast. At first I thought it was because the smoke kept blowing in his face, but he was so pale it looked like he was going to pass out. Then he was up and running.”

Dan worries her lip, quelling the urge to go after him. Will he ever be forthcoming with them? Open and honest when he’s suffering? He’s so used to shouldering it all alone, every inch of him a secret, and with as long as he’s been at it she’s not sure he’ll ever fully break the habit.

“He’d tell us if he needed us, right?” She can’t help but ask.

Matt puts an arm around her shoulders, steering her back towards the beach and the rest of their friends. “I hope so.” She sighs and supposes that’ll have to be enough.

As the worry fades, something else comes to mind. She smiles smugly up at Matt. “Does all that,” she gestures back at the patio, “mean that Alli and I won the bet?”

Matt clamps a hand over her eyes. “You didn’t see anything.” She bats him away, laughing as he halfheartedly attempts to blind her again.

“I’m pretty sure I saw something that didn’t look like love. It barely looked like tolerance, actually.”

Matt kisses the top of her head. “It’s not over yet. I still have hope.”

Dan hums, already looking forward to the sweet taste of victory. “We’ll see.” 

Neither Andrew or Neil return to the bonfire that night, not that anyone is surprised. The next night, however, they do. They sit together quietly on the edge of the group, Andrew’s knee pressing into Neil’s, and even though Neil is mostly silent, it’s clear he’s still listening. His eyes track the conversation, rarely drifting away from his friends, but when they do they’re on Andrew. He’s present, which is more than enough.

By the end of the week, Neil is practically normal—well, his normal. His usual competitiveness is back as they play beach volleyball and he instigates arguments as they eat lunch under the umbrella. It doesn’t escape Dan’s notice that every time they ditch the concrete in favor of the beach, Neil’s never more than an arm’s length from Andrew, the pair somehow more inseparable than they are at home. But that doesn’t mean she knows what to make of it. Their dynamic will likely always be an enigma. 

But whatever tension Neil carried at the beginning of the trip slowly fades away and something else takes its place. Dan dares to hope that it’s something akin to her own contentment.

2: Kevin

Kevin’s not drinking.

He’s surrounded by enough noise to make his ears ring and strobe lights so bright his eyes hurt, but he doesn’t grab a glass. Eden’s is at once familiar and unusual because for the first time Kevin is suffering it fully sober.

He’s trying this new thing where he doesn’t get shit-faced at the earliest convenience in a threadbare attempt to quiet the voices in his head. So far he’s not enjoying it. But he’s trying, for his father.

Earlier in the week Wymack had sat him down and had a talk about coping, about trauma. His father had all but begged him to talk with Betsy, or someone– anyone, to really talk about what was going on with him, not just regurgitate events and facts but actually try to sort out the thoughts swirling in his head, the ones just as dark as the halls of the Nest. His old man’s wise advice is that he needs to fully open up or else he’ll spend the rest of his life coiled so tight his muscles might snap, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The first step to all of this—to healing —apparently being cutting back, hell, cutting off. And when looking at his father, the only piece of his family left, Kevin found himself wanting to listen, wanting to do better. His life is his own now (eighty percent tithe notwithstanding) and he wants to actually live it, not just cower in the corner every time the spotlight turns off. He wants to learn how to be a person, he wants to be happy and get the chance to grow old.

So tonight he’s abstaining and so far the only lesson he’s taken away from it is that Eden’s is not nearly as fun when sober and, more importantly, way too loud. Especially when the other Foxes are tagging along, the sheer amount of noise sets his teeth on edge. It’s not exactly normal for all the upperclassmen to join them on a weekend trip to Columbia, but it’s not as unusual as it once was.

And yet Kevin finds he doesn’t mind their addition. They provide a distraction for Nicky, new prey to drag out onto the dancefloor when Kevin digs his heels in, and a source of conversation for himself when Andrew and Neil prove useless as they always do at Eden’s.

Nicky all but collides into the table when he and the girls come back from the dance floor, his chest heaving and sweaty with flushed cheeks and a euphoric smile on his face. He takes the last shot right out of Aaron’s hand and downs it, knocking the empty glass against his cousin’s head when he objects. 

“That was mine!”

Nicky drops down into an empty chair where they’ve pushed two tables together to accommodate their inflated group. “Whoops.”

“Go buy the next round,” Aaron orders.

“I can’t, I’ll drink them all before I get back.”

Kevin wonders how he’s the only one considered to have a drinking problem.

“Your self-control is abominable.”

“ Hey .”

“If you keep this up, you’ll end the night getting your stomach pumped,” Matt tells him, nursing his soda with Dan perched on his lap. 

“If the EMTs are hot, I won’t mind.”

“Nicky,” Renee chides.

“No, he has a point,” Allison says. “There are few situations that a man in uniform cannot improve.”

“I think medical emergency might be one.”

“Oh, Matt,” Nicky sighs, pityingly.

“Just look at Katelyn,” Allison gestures to the girl draped under Aaron’s arm, who sits up straighter at the attention. “There’s a reason she’s put up with Ron’s bullshit all this time. The promise of a lab coat!”

Aaron’s scowl melts away when Katelyn shamelessly offers, “It’s definitely a perk.”

Apparently done with this conversation, Andrew stands up, tapping Neil’s arm as he grabs the drink tray and pushes through the crowd toward the bar with Neil close behind. Kevin tunes out the conversation as Nicky starts describing, in unforgiving detail, the year Erik dressed up as a firefighter for Halloween, he lets the music drown out the voices as it pulses in beat with his growing headache.

The club is even more crowded than usual tonight. Sweaty bodies merging around each other in a constant migration that makes Kevin feel like he’s in the middle of the rapids. He’s still relatively new at being in the thick of a horde like this after having been isolated for so many years, and it still elicits a small swoop of panic in his gut. He needs a center to focus on or else he feels himself getting lost, getting swept away with the crowd. It’s some byproduct crutch of the familiarity he was taught to depend on, a person to velcro himself to. His center is still the same thing it has been since he first came to Palmetto.

In the crowd, he searches for Andrew.

He doesn’t take long to spot, him and Neil having carved out a place for themselves at the bar, standing so close together it’s hard to tell they’re two people at all. The tray sits empty on the counter beside them, Roland too busy trying to serve the masses to refill theirs just yet, but as he passes by he slides them a single shot, an apology for the wait. 

Kevin is only slightly surprised when Andrew pushes it toward Neil. It wasn’t that long ago that Neil wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of drinking around others, much less in a bar packed to overcapacity. But he’s been doing this more often, indulging a little on the nights when Andrew chooses to stay alert enough for the both of them. An extension of trust Kevin never expected a runaway like him to give, but after already giving Andrew his life once why wouldn’t he? Andrew’s good for it, Kevin knows that to be true.

Neil picks up the shot and, not breaking eye contact with Andrew, downs it. His face gives no reaction to the drink and the weight of Andrew’s stare intensifies.

“Ugh, look at them,” Allison complains, pulling Kevin back into the conversation by virtue of sitting to his immediate right. “Can’t they just get a room already and spare those of us who aren’t getting any. It’s disrespectful.” 

Nicky twists in his seat to get a look. “Now how is it possible that you can see the way they look at each other and still think they’re not in love?”

“I don’t think it’s love they’re looking at each other with,” Dan says, hiding her smirk in Matt’s shoulder. “Different L word.”

“Don’t talk about this in front of me,” Aaron says.

“You can leave.”

Kevin looks away from Aaron’s glare, returning his focus to his friends. They’re still staring at each other, communicating in some silent way that years ago, in a different state, with a different person, Kevin was once able to do. Something twinges in his chest before his attention is pulled away.

Kevin spots the man a second before Andrew does.

They’re surrounded by drunks, but this one is notably more far gone than most, sloppy. He takes his new drink away from the bar, walking around the perimeter of it, pushing his way through the crowd. He’s uneasy on his feet as he comes stumbling around behind Neil. 

Andrew’s eyes flick to the stranger for one second before he places a palm on Neil’s chest and pushes him a step backwards, which Neil accepts easily, immediately putting more space between them. 

Maybe someone bumped into him or maybe he just tripped over his own feet, but either way the stranger goes one way and his drink goes another.

The alcohol hits Andrew in the chest, drenching his shirt and sending rivulets of liquid down his arm, but Neil is dry. The stranger barely seems aware of his misstep, struggling to even get his feet back under himself, but Andrew just blinks down at the mess. The corners of his eyes tighten in irritation, but his expression otherwise remains flat.

“Uh oh,” Nicky mumbles.

But it’s not Andrew who moves next. The stranger has only just steadied himself when Neil’s elbow drives into his gut, hard. Kevin doesn’t have to be within hearing distance to know that the guy chokes out a grunt as he folds. Neil takes advantage of the drunk’s halved height to grab the back of his neck, fingers digging into some pressure point that makes the guy go to his knees, listing forward like he might pass out.

One of the Foxes gasps but Kevin doesn’t tear away his gaze to see who. 

He’s fairly certain he’s the only one that sees Neil’s free hand drift towards Andrew’s arm, fingers slipping under the armband, but Andrew stops the movement. Neil glances at him, but whatever he sees there makes him retract his hand. He settles for glaring down at the offender instead, face hardening into the Butcher’s glare.

He digs his fingers into the tender flesh of the man’s neck, making his body shudder.

Kevin watches Neil’s sharp mouth form the word Leave before he shoves the guy away.

The man sways but does as he’s told, at first crawling until he’s far enough to safely get to his feet without fear that Neil will change his mind. He flees as fast as his drunk legs can carry him. Kevin wouldn’t be surprised if he flees the building completely.

Kevin has to read Andrew’s lips to catch what he says. “Your chivalry is even more useless than your martyring.”  

Whatever reply Neil gives makes Andrew roll his eyes.

Allison breaks the stunned silence at their table. “So was that sweet or totally deranged.”

Nicky turns back to face them with a wince. “Can it be both?”

“Not enough therapy in the world,” Dan trails off with a shake of her head.

You’re all idiots , Kevin thinks. What Andrew and Neil have is something entirely their own. No words or labels imposed upon their relationship will ever be able to capture it. It’s something only Kevin seems to be able to grasp the fundamentals of. The Foxes’ attempts to classify it will only result in a more mystifying knot and bigger headache.

Perhaps seeing the whole thing, Roland then appears with their refilled tray, sending the pair away from the bar without further issue. 

They weave their way through the bodies, Neil holding the tray up from flinging limbs, and Kevin catches a glimpse of Andrew’s hand on Neil’s waist as they approach the table. Neil sets the tray down, taking another shot for himself as he and Andrew reclaim their seats on Kevin’s left.

“Was that really necessary?” Matt asks, jutting his chin towards the bar.

Neil shrugs. “Not my fault his parents never taught him how to walk.”

“It’s a crowded bar,” Allison points out.

“Not that crowded,” replies Neil, unfazed.

The rest of the Foxes share a look but drop it, clearly chalking the whole ordeal up to Neil’s poor socialization and Andrew’s bad influence. The fresh drinks are distributed and downed, then another round of dancing is ordered, prompting the majority of their table to scatter off. Katelyn even drags Aaron with her, but no one buys his complaints—not when just one word from her can make him do just about anything. 

That leaves the three of them at the table. They don’t bother to talk, the music too loud and small talk something none of them have ever participated in willingly. Kevin takes comfort in their companionship anyway.

The rest of the night seems to drag in Kevin’s sober state, but he doesn’t bother bitching about it, letting the rest of them have their fun. And if Neil and Andrew are closer than usual—the scant inches that usually separate them no longer existent—Kevin doubts anyone else notices.

3: Allison

It’s Renee’s idea, doing something together one last time while “the Foxes” only includes the nine of them, before the new recruits arrive on Monday. 

It’ll be a shit show, everyone knows that. Foxes never do well with change. There’ll be arguments and rivalries and friction as the newbies fight to claim a spot in the pecking order, unaware that by trials of life and death they will never rank higher than tenth. Neil will be co-captain, which should be entertainment in and of itself, and they will be fighting tooth and nail to reclaim a title no one ever expected them to win in the first place.

Growing pains, no more fun than puberty. 

Allison awaits it all with anticipation and premature annoyance.

But no matter what eventual bonding their new group will work up to or how tightly knit the team finds themselves at the end of the season, it will never be anything like what has linked the nine of them. It will never come close.

A year ago Allison would have balked at the idea of being tethered to the monsters, but now she finds that she doesn’t mind it much. Prickly and unpleasant as they may be, she can recognize there are far worse people to have on your side. It’s reassuring to know there are those who would go to the ends of the earth to protect the ones you love.

She looks at Renee, who is leading their group through the park’s winding path.

A movie on the lawn is what she proposed. The town is putting it on, showing Clueless with vendors scattered around selling popcorn, funnel cakes, and any other movie snack that can reel in wallets. Despite being off campus, the park usually draws in enough students to make it feel like it isn’t. With it being early June however, their group is among some of the only college students in attendance.

Normally movie nights for them are too hard to coordinate, everyone having an opinion and the twins vetoing anything that isn’t horror or aliens. But tonight the cards are stacked in their favor—the looming interlopers, it being Renee’s idea, the discovery that Neil has, of course, never seen Clueless —so an exception is made.

Matt and Andrew are off trying to find parking spots because even though most of their peers aren’t in town, turnout isn’t low. Families and teenagers surround them, winding up the path towards the lawn.

Nicky is in the middle of educating Neil on the best romcoms adapted from classics, and Allison sincerely doubts Nicky knows anything about The Taming of the Shrew but that doesn’t stop him from going way too in depth on 10 Things I Hate About You judging by the way Neil’s eyes are glazing over.

“––he actually sings to her from across the soccer field, looking all– Stop.” Nicky shakes Neil’s arm. “Look at that adorable little ice cream cart.”

Allison looks at the adjacent path connecting with theirs and, sure enough, tucked into a picturesque nook of bushes and flowers stands an old man behind a cute old fashioned ice cream cart. He even has the pinstripe vest and folded hat to match.

Nicky is already fishing out his wallet, practically bouncing on his feet. “Who wants one?” With the implication that it’s his treat, everyone chimes in with an order. All but Kevin, shocker, and Renee, who Allison knows is saving room for funnel cake.

He nods to it all, acting like his memory is capable of perfect recall, and Allison knows someone’s order is going to be wrong. It better not be her’s.

“Neil?” Nicky asks once the others are done, clearly just being polite (they all know Neil’s sweet tooth is nonexistent) considering he starts turning away without waiting for an answer.

After a moment’s consideration Neil surprises them all by saying, “Rocky Road in a cone. Thanks.” Kevin grimaces in clear disapproval.

Nicky skids to a halt. “Wait, really?”

Neil shrugs. “I can pay for it myself.”

“No! No. I’ve got it. Just making sure.” Nicky’s smile is wide, like Neil has done him a favor when really they’re all just bleeding his wallet dry. He practically skips over to the cart, dragging Aaron with him for an extra set of hands.

Allison leans closer to Renee. “Our alien is assimilating. Is he finally turning into a real boy?”

Renee doesn’t respond but her lips purse together and she gets that sweet but all too knowing look on her face. The group stays where they are, waiting both for their ice cream and for their drivers to catch up to them. The sun is beginning to set, swathing the lush park in hues of orange and pink. The outdoor lamps begin to blink on, making the night feel hazy and dreamlike.

It isn’t long before Nicky comes bounding back over, Aaron in tow and their hands full of a variety of cups and cones. The treats are divvied out and Aaron hands Allison her cup of strawberry without anything resembling a customer service smile, but he doesn’t scowl like he once would. Progress.

Merrily, Nicky hands a cone to Neil, who takes it with a grateful nod.

Allison takes a spoonful out of her scoop and watches, they all do. Neil continues standing, cone in hand, unmoving and unaware that they’re observing him, too busy staring down the path from where they came.

“Are you…?” Dan starts, motioning to the cone when Neil looks at her. It takes him a second to understand, then he blinks down at the treat before finally lifting it to his mouth and, because he’s a heathen, takes a bite, making Allison full body cringe. He scrunches his face; at the cold or the sweetness, who the hell knows.

“Oh my god,” Nicky sends a horrified look around the group. “Do you even like Rocky Road?”

Neil shrugs. He doesn’t take another bite.

Allison can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“ Neil,” Nicky whines, his own cone of Blue Moon forgotten and starting to drip down his hand. “What the hell? That was almost five dollars. Do you think I can get my money back?” He looks between them all, finding no sympathy and various levels of amusement, then marches back to the unsuspecting old man with their laughter trailing after him, but Neil is unapologetic. A faint smile even curls at his lips.

Allison wouldn’t put it past him to have done this just to rile Nicky up, which she can admit is always entertaining. Andrew’s terrorizing habits must be rubbing off on him, and when paired with Neil’s inherent provocative nature brews something the world is unprepared for.

“Have you ever tried acting normal?” Aaron asks, as if he has any ground to stand on.

“Why bother? It hasn’t worked so far for you,” Neil responds flatly but his eyes sparkle.

Aaron’s jaw tightens but rather than enter a verbal sparring match, he just rolls his eyes and continues up the path, leaving the rest of them behind. Kevin glances at Neil’s static form before following.

“Have you made friendship bracelets yet?” Allison asks, making Dan snort. The mischief  fades from Neil’s eyes, but amusement ripples over his features as he shakes his head.

Before they can follow dumb and dumber, they catch sight of a figure rounding the bend behind them. Matt smiles brightly as he jogs over, but his brows furrow when he sees what they hold.

“Where’d you get those?” He raises an eyebrow at Neil’s cone.

“Over there,” Dan nods towards the cart. “On Nicky. Want one?”

Matt shakes his head as he wraps an arm around her. “There’s a Kona Ice truck up near the lawn with my name on it.” Dan accepts that but offers Matt a taste of her chocolate chip cone anyway, which he does not refuse, and turning around they keep walking.

Allison and Renee start to follow them, Nicky still haggling with the poor old man, hand flapping in their direction, until she notices they’re a body short. When she glances back for Neil she finds he hasn’t moved and it only takes a second to see why. She catches Renee’s arm, halting her so they can linger.

Andrew is walking up from where Matt just came. His hands tucked in his pockets, his stride unhurried, looking moody and mysterious in his all black outfit; predictably wearing his jeans and armbands despite the furious June heat.

Neil remains where he is. Standing in the middle of the path, waiting for him, unbothered as other groups and families have to part around him to get by. It doesn’t take long for Andrew to close the distance, expression aloof but his eyes never straying from Neil. Now they’re only a couple feet apart but neither makes any move to continue on

Neil simply holds out his ice cream, which Andrew takes with the slight tilt of his head. He’s still staring at Neil as he brings it up to his mouth for a taste. He licks the excess from his lips, seemingly satisfied, face still blank but something about it relaxed in a way that Allison can’t put her finger on.

He reaches out, forefinger coming up under Neil’s chin, thumb rubbing at the corner of his mouth—wiping away the smeared chocolate left there. Neil doesn’t pull away but his tongue darts out, licking his lip for good measure and catching Andrew’s thumb before he can retreat. Andrew gives him an unimpressed look and digs his thumb in to lightly shove his face away, then wipes his hand off on Neil’s shirt, who doesn’t bother to hide his satisfied smirk. 

They follow the rest of the group, Nicky joining up to close ranks with a grumble. His voice rises indignantly when he sees that Neil gave his ice cream away, but Andrew doesn’t bother handing it back. He works on it without comment and Neil doesn’t offer any kind of defense, so Nicky’s protests fall on deaf ears.

Allison turns to Renee, whose face is bright and pleased.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Allison tells her. 

“Okay,” Renee says, but her smile is amused, smug despite the fact that she has no money in the pool. 

Suddenly, Allison’s victory doesn’t seem so sure anymore.

4: Matt

Nicky tosses a shiny blue card into the pile, smiling devilishly at his cousin. “Draw four, bitch.” 

“Fuck off,” Aaron says, throwing his cards down.

They’re all sprawled out in the girl’s room, hiding from the freshmen. As expected the transition hasn’t been smooth in the slightest and the newcomers aren’t just testing the limits of their coach and captains, but of all the upperclassmen. Coach has ordered the two groups to keep their distance for a couple of days, let tempers cool and patience replenish; not that any of them have ever had much to begin with.

A movie night was the intended plan but no one could agree on anything so they settled for a friendly game of Uno instead. Matt’s not sure he’s ever heard so much squabbling.

“You’re such a cheat,” Aaron bites. 

“Excuse me?”

“There is no way you have another draw four.”

“Well, read it and weep, baby. Come on, add a few more to that full deck you’ve got there.”

Aaron is losing, by a long shot.

And Nicky, as he keeps reminding them all, is close to the finish line with only three cards left.

“Just suck it up, Minyard, and get your cards.”

“Wasn’t talking to you, Wilds. And that’s his fifth one this game.”

“I’m just lucky, no, blessed. I know, I know, it’s unfair, what with my already stunning good looks and sparkling personality. It’s not your fault, dear baby cousin, jealousy is inevitable.” Nicky is all but cooing at him, reaching out to pat his cheek, ignoring Aaron’s murderous glare and batting hands.

“‘Ron is certainly lacking on all fronts,” Allison snarks.

Aaron turns his mounting frustration onto her. “Really? Because only one of us is miserably single, and it’s not me.” 

Dan frowns, looking ready to jump in to defend her friend but Allison just laughs.

“And we worry about poor, deluded Kate every day.”

“Maybe the cards just weren’t shuffled well,” Renee chimes in, valiantly trying to defuse the tension before someone breaks something. 

“Aaron shuffled,” Kevin reminds them all from where he’s leaning back against the armchair, eyes closed waiting for the bickering to end and his turn to come around.

“Fuck you.” 

Allison rubs two manicured fingers against her temple. “Someone bring me the tequila before I shut up his whining for good.”

Aaron whirls back at her, face starting to turn red and mouth open to give her a real headache but Matt tunes the rest out. He stands up to get her a glass, trying not to smile so he doesn’t find himself next in the line of fire. 

He can’t help it, though. They’ve come a long way. It makes him a little sappy to think about sometimes.

It wasn’t that long ago that they used to really fight. Lay hands, threaten lives, pull knives. The tension between them as dangerous as a viper, constantly writhing and ready to strike, the locker room just as violent as the court.

And now they bicker. And jab and tease and yell. They get in heated arguments and become way too invested in stupid card games where their competitive natures can rear their ugly heads. But it’s not like it used to be, not at all. There are threats that aren’t threatening, fights that aren’t violent, and knives that stay sheathed. They’re a family, with all the love and irritation and loyalty that it entails. They bicker like siblings.

So every once and a while Matt finds himself thinking too much about the progress they’ve all made. Castoffs from society who have built something together, something none of them have ever truly had, and became all the stronger for it.

Matt doesn’t mind the shouting, he likes how it animates the room.

He squeezes around the small couch where Neil and Andrew have staked their claim as he makes his way to the even smaller kitchen. He doesn’t spare them much more than a glance, giving Neil’s shoulder a pat as he passes, noting the way Neil’s knee is pressed into Andrew’s thigh. Andrew doesn’t acknowledge his passing, staring off into space, but Neil glances up at him, offering a twitch of his lips that Matt has come to learn means Neil is comfortable and relaxed, before refocusing his lazy attention on Andrew.

Matt suppresses another smile, but it’s hard. He likes how easy they are with each other, speaking some hidden language at a frequency the rest of them can’t hear.

Neil deserves to be happy, and Matt dares to think that he is. 

At the counter, Matt paws through the bottles looking for the tequila, ignoring the rising voices and Renee’s attempts to mediate. He’s found it and is getting a mug from the cabinet when Dan slips in to rifle through the snacks.

“Nicky is going to get himself punched,” she says, sticking a chip in her mouth and looking over her shoulder. Matt follows her gaze over the back of the couch to the coffee table where Aaron is trying to yank Nicky’s cards out of his hands, the later throwing taunts in between shrieks of protest.

“That’ll teach him not to cheat,” Matt laughs, pouring the tequila.

“Someone should tell him his poker face is terrible.”

“Poker,” Matt muses, “good idea. We’ll play that next.”

“So I can take more of your money?” Her shit eating grin is annoying and cocky and reminds Matt exactly why he fell in love with her in the first place. He steals the bag from her hands.

“Just for that, your Doritos privileges have been revoked.” He holds them up in the air as her face scrunches in that cute way he adores.

“How dare you—”

She jumps for it but he just raises it higher, smiling down at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You haven’t earned them back yet.”

“Those are mine .”

“You can’t even taste them with all that smack talk in your mouth.”

She jumps one more time before leveling him with a look that’s all fire and cunning. He has one moment to feel the zing of fear down his spine before her hands find his sides, digging in and making his body lurch against his will. He’s more ticklish than most, and from the moment Dan made that discovery she’s been using it to her advantage ever since. She’s ruthless and nimble, making his fate unavoidable. His body contorts against the assault, laughter bubbling out amidst his protests, and he glances up, ready to toss the bag off to the first person he sees, but pauses when his eyes catch on something else.

His distraction allows his arm to droop enough for Dan to swoop in and steal it back with a Ha! and a spin, but Matt doesn’t care, too interested in watching the moment unfolding on the couch.

He had looked up to see Andrew flick one of his cards at Neil, hitting him square in the forehead. Neil blinks, his eyes pulled away from Andrew and down to the card in his lap, amusement pulling at the corners of his lips. He inspects it for its worth and then, deeming it unfit, hands it back with a shrug, still content to look nowhere else but at Andrew. With no acknowledgement Andrew accepts the projectile, pulling away to lean back against the armrest.

Dan crunches a chip at him, realizing he hasn’t moved. “Is this a new tactic? Standing still won’t make you disap—” 

Matt grabs her arm, silencing her, because at that same second Neil says, “Wait.” Andrew finally glances at him with a raised brow and slowly Neil reaches out.

“What—?” 

Matt shushes her and tugs at her arm, urging her to look, and she does just in time to see Neil gently swipe his index finger across Andrew’s cheek, who’s eyes briefly flutter shut at the contact. Matt hears Dan take in a breath.

Neil holds his hand out just a few inches from Andrew’s face, the pad of his finger facing up, presenting, what Matt can only assume to be, an eyelash.

“Wish,” Neil says and Dan grips Matt’s shirt. They don’t move, not willing to risk drawing attention and breaking the moment. But neither Neil nor Andrew notice, too wrapped up in each other.

Neil waits a moment, tilting his head as Andrew blinks at him, face vacant as always. When he makes no move to comply, Neil starts to lower his hand. But he doesn’t make it very far before Andrew catches his wrist, holding him in place. Unceremoniously he yanks Neil’s hand closer and with a soft breath, blows the eyelash away.

“What’d you choose?” Neil asks, voice soft and just this side of curious. Matt has to strain to hear him above the arguing still devolving on the other side of the couch.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“I’d tell you.”

“Wouldn’t have to, junkie .”

Dan’s nails dig into Matt’s side, undoubtedly leaving indents in his skin. He barely registers it.

Neil scoffs. “I’m not that predictable.”

Andrew flicks his scarred cheek. “It’s written on your forehead, three big stupid letters.”

Neil leans in, as if chasing the touch when Andrew’s hand drops away, and the wry twist of his lips makes him look smug. “Andrew is six letters.”

With nothing more than a grim expression and a slight flare of his nostrils, Andrew pushes two fingers into the meat of Neil’s cheek, pushing his face away. Neil complies, but his satisfaction rolls off of him in waves. 

For a second Matt swears Andrew’s mouth twitches, but then it’s gone and his face is its usual blank slate once more, leaving Matt wondering if he imagined it.

Show over, Matt looks down at Dan. It takes her a second to drag her eyes up to him, her lips parted in shock. 

“I feel like I just walked in on them in the shower or something,” she whispers. Matt nods. It was more intimate than he’s ever seen them be with each other. Not for the first time it makes him wonder what they’re like behind closed doors. Then again, maybe he’s better off not knowing.

Matt lowers his voice, heart racing a little. “Does that mean—?”

She cuts him off, already following his thought. “Don’t get your hopes up, Boyd. No one has won anything yet.”

His smile is elastic. “Sure.”

With a scoff she throws a chip at his head and returns to their friends. Nicky still has his cards and Aaron is silent, but they’re on opposite sides of the coffee table with Renee and Allison now between them. Matt hands Allison her drink, which she throws back immediately, and darts a glance at the couch, but nothing is out of the ordinary. Apart from Neil finally paying attention to the game again, that is.

“You’re all homophobic and I’m being targeted!” Nicky announces, voice shrill. “Just so you know I’m playing my wild card next, and I know neither of you assholes have any red.” 

They ignore him and the round continues. Andrew’s turn comes just before Nicky’s and with his usual impassivity he places his card. Chaos erupts when they realize it’s a skip , Nicky’s betrayed gasp ringing like the shot heard around the world. Allison’s laughter is almost loud enough to drown out Nicky’s complaining and Matt’s chest feels warm as he watches it all.

He doesn’t miss the way that Neil tucks a foot under Andrew’s thigh, nor the fact that Andrew lets him without protest. 

Just like how he doesn’t miss the new brightness in Aaron’s eyes and the small smirk on his lips. Well, until Allison places her card and tells him, once again, to draw four.

5: Aaron

Aaron is well aware of the bet he made and despite the other Foxes’ incredulousness, he’s more than confident in his choice—not that he’s not any more privy to the inner workings of Andrew’s life than anyone else. He doesn’t have the money to bet against Allison often, but when there’s no doubt that she’s wrong , well. He can’t pass it up.

Many have considered Andew a sociopath, Aaron used to be one of them, but he put his pathetically light wallet on the line to prove that his brother has feelings. Most people who’ve met Andrew would laugh at the idea, his humanity has long been up for debate and there’s been little evidence that he’s even capable of wanting, much less loving . 

But Aaron bet on it because somewhere along the way he became certain that it’s true.

He knows this thing is more for Andrew and Josten because he’s gone to great lengths to be sure. If Neil punching Aaron at the slightest suggestion that he was taking advantage of Andrew wasn’t proof enough, then the session with Andrew and Dobson was the final nail in the coffin. The fact that Andrew never mentioned his relationship to his beloved therapist is a dead giveaway of its importance and betrays how closely he holds that feral little gremlin to his chest.

And even if Aaron hadn’t confirmed his suspicions, he’s slowly been becoming terribly aware of just how much his brother cares. Only recently has he had to confront his own misguided perception of Andrew and from then on out he hasn’t let himself doubt it. Not since Andrew reached for him across a brutalized bed, heedless of the bloody gash on his own temple. Not since Aaron finally understood why Andrew signed with the Foxes in the first place. Not since Andrew let him go.

That alone was the biggest declaration his brother could have made. For Aaron and Neil both, and for Andrew himself. He’s more than capable of feeling, turns out he’s just better at hiding it than most, and Aaron is starting to realize just how deeply. 

Aaron’s spent so many years letting his anger fester and his resentment build, it’s disorienting to suddenly be confronted with these hidden depths he’d been so blithely skimming over. He catches himself watching Andrew sometimes, trying to find the seam, the ridge where the truth of his brother shifts into the hard shell that gets reflected at the world. He was discomfited to discover that the line of transition is obvious, as if Andrew has never tried to conceal it in the first place. Just the simple nature of no one bothering to look at him from a different perspective keeping it hidden.

Now that Aaron’s gotten his head out of his ass and has finally learned the right way to pay attention, it’s getting easier to read his brother. It’s still no walk in the park, that’s for damn sure, Andrew tries to stomp down all expression from his face like a fire that has outlived its use, but his twin isn’t as mysterious as he thinks he is. Once you know where to look, the signs are all there.

Aaron hates that Josten figured it out first.

But Aaron’s catching up, catching on .

He sees it in the way Andrew avoids Katelyn, his silence a combination of respecting Aaron’s choice and going to great lengths not to add any more salt to the wound by verbalizing his disapproval.

He sees it when Andrew plays that stupidly complicated video game level with Nicky, the one Aaron knows for a fact Andrew already passed last week, or in how he makes Renee smile with some private comment as they run laps around the court, or with the shelf in Betsy’s office that has been gradually filling up with familiar glass figurines.

Maybe he sees it most, and to his disgust, with the house key that Josten always uses when they drive up to Columbia, holding his breath each time he unlocks the door like the idiot can’t believe it actually works.

The moments are small and scattered, easy enough to brush aside if Aaron weren’t so intent on collecting them, hoarding these glimpses of his brother so that he might finally understand him, to however minor an extent. Andrew will be seen and he will be known, Aaron is making sure of it. He refuses to let them continue going blindly up this two-way street, both moving doggedly on in ignorance, unaware of the other’s efforts. 

So Aaron’s been paying attention. Which is why he’s more confident than ever that soon his wallet will have a nice weight to it.

The snow comes earlier than usual this year. It only really started to feel like winter a couple weeks ago and Aaron has been complaining about it every day since, having to brave the cold as he walks between classes. Still several days out from Thanksgiving break, he would’ve preferred if the flurries held out longer, but he can’t find it in himself to truly mind, despite his hatred for any temperature below 60 degrees. He’s still unaccustomed to a winter in any capacity and has to catch his breath when he looks outside to see a thin blanket of white. It’s not like they even get that much in South Carolina, but his awe has never listened to reason. 

Nicky is thrilled to see the flakes drift down, already sticking to the ground with more grip than they did last year. Once classes are done for the day he rounds everyone up, demanding they come outside and play like they’re overgrown elementary schoolers. But Nicky is so adamant that no one has the energy to refuse, and the opportunity to shove some of their teammates’ faces in snow is too cathartic to pass up. 

Coming out of his shared room with Matt, Aaron catches sight of his brother. He’s wearing the new black beanie that Aaron got him for their birthday, meeting his gaze with his usual indifference, but that doesn’t sting the way it once did. Indifference is Andrew’s resting state and reflects nothing about Aaron, he now knows. It’s been a long time since he’s seen any contempt in his brother’s eyes—maybe there never was any to begin with.

They follow the group out, the chattering trailing them all down the stairs but Aaron opts out of any conversation. Katelyn is busy at practice and the world always feels dimmer without her next to him to brighten it up. He and Andrew walk in silence side by side, they still haven’t made a habit of small talk and he doubts they ever will. Andrew holds a dark bundle in his arms, but when Aaron glances at it Andrew just meets his eyes with no explanation. Aaron doesn’t waste his time asking. 

They pour out of the building’s front door, the snow crunching underfoot. The Foxes make for the open lawn in front, several of the upperclassmen already flopping down for snow angels. Something close to childlike excitement bubbles out of them, their laughter too warm for the frigid wind. 

Aaron glances back when he realizes he’s walking alone. He sees Andrew standing in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting for Josten to break off from Matt’s side and retrace his steps back to him. Where Andrew is bundled in dark layers and a thick coat—their aversion for the cold one more thing they apparently share—Neil is covered in just a bright orange Palmetto hoodie. The only coat Aaron’s ever seen Josten wear was the one Nicky got him last year, and that was lost in the chaos of Baltimore.

Aaron’s about to turn away from the orange eyesore when Andrew passes off the bundle. Curiosity getting the better of him, Aaron watches Neil accept it after a moment’s hesitation. He unfurls it to reveal a new thermal coat, identical to the one Andrew currently wears.

Neil doesn’t put it on, but he doesn’t hand it back either.

“I have a coat,” Aaron hears him say, and even he has to roll his eyes at that. How Andrew puts up such an idiot, Aaron will never know.

“Had,” Andrew corrects, then he gestures to Neil’s well-worn sweatshirt. “A rag with sleeves is not a coat.”

Neil blinks at him dumbly. “It’s warm enough.” 

“It has holes.”

“I can mend those.”

Somehow Andrew’s face is still impassive, no hint of irritation, like this is exactly what he expected. “Hypothermia is a stupid way to die.” 

That, for some reason, is what prompts Neil to move. Mouth twisted in something like amusement, Neil shrugs the garment on. He looks down at it appreciatively, shimmying minutely in what Aaron can only assume is relief at the warmth.

Neil goes to turn, like he expects Andrew to follow, but Andrew doesn’t. Instead he reaches out and catches his arm, keeping him in place. Neil takes the hint and stands still so that Andrew can grab the bottom of the coat. He lines up the hem and then zips it up like Josten is a toddler—in this Aaron is inclined to agree. Then before Neil has a chance to slip away again, Andrew starts painstakingly fastening all the buttons.

“I’m not going to the moon,” Neil murmurs as Andrew finishes the last few at his chin only to then fish both of the hoods out from under the collar and drag them over his head, swiping a stray curl out of Neil’s eye as he does so.

Andrew doesn’t respond to the comment, but his face shifts for the first time into something unimpressed.

“Thank you,” Neil says then.

Andrew presses a thumb into the divot of Neil’s chin, squeezing gently before his hand suddenly drops, snagging the drawstrings of Neil’s hoodie on the way down, cinching the hood up tight. Neil sputters as his face becomes obstructed, only his nose sticking out. 

For once Aaron can appreciate his brother’s forward thinking, they should make Neil hide his face from here on out.

Andrew doesn’t wait for Neil to free himself and starts toward the group. He gives Aaron a flat stare which means he knows he was eavesdropping. And apparently he wasn’t the only one.

Aaron catches Dan eyeing the pair appraisingly and Matt smiling at her side. When he notices Aaron looking he sends him the most unsubtle thumbs up Aaron has ever seen, but he doesn’t have time to respond before a voice rings out to shatter the peace.

“Aw,” Nicky coos. “Andrew, you’re such a mother hen.” Aaron is starting to accept the fact that their cousin will never learn how to keep his mouth shut. The look Andrew pins him with is cool but pointed, like the sharp end of an icicle. He walks forward with more purpose now and Aaron’s glad it’s not in his direction.

“Five,” Andrew says. “Four.”

Nicky’s face blanches.

“Three—” 

Finally Nicky gets the hint and starts running, barely making it ten feet away before Andrew collects a handful of snow off the ground, taking only a moment to compact it as he hones in on his mark, and launches the snowball through the air.

It hits Nicky in the back of the head, sending him sprawling into the fluffy embankment with an audible oof.  

A couple of the freshmen cheer and Aaron feels a smile pull at his own face, but Andrew pays them all no mind.

They stay outside longer than most people their age would, but despite the harsh wind and lack of feeling in his toes, Aaron finds himself enjoying it. For a little while it feels like a memory from a childhood he never got to have. One where his body wasn’t constantly braced, his brother was safely at his side, and life felt light enough to carry with others around him to help shoulder the weight.

He doesn’t tell Nicky he’s grateful. Instead he tackles him in the snow, trying to shove handfuls down his jacket, but the sheer delight in Nicky’s laughter makes him think he knows it anyway.

+1: Neil

It wasn’t raining when Neil left.

Doesn’t really matter at this point, considering the pouring sheet of it that pelts him as he turns the last bend on Perimeter Road, but it feels worth noting that he isn’t stupid enough to deliberately run through a thunderstorm. 

Looking back, the clouds were particularly dark and heavy this morning, shrouding their dorm room in more darkness than light, but it’s winter. Every day looks like that. And Neil had barely spared a glance out the window, eyes much more interested in the lump of blankets that was Andrew’s sleeping form and the laces of his sneakers before he was slipping out of the room.

Now his clothes are soaked through and his teeth are chattering as he runs up the steps of Fox Tower. Any of the usual internal peace and pleasant ache brought to his muscles from a good run is thoroughly dissipated as he walks through the doors, bringing in a wave of water with him. His shoes squelch as he slowly walks across the tile, taking care not to slip.

In the elevator he wonders if he’s going to be knocked on his ass sick this time tomorrow. He shakes the water from his hair and cringes at the feeling of wet clothes plastered to his skin. Droplets trail down his arms and any attempts to wipe them away only smears the wetness around. He’s jittery and impatient by the time the doors open to his floor.

He makes quick work of unlocking his door and doesn’t bother to see if it closes behind him, instead making a beeline for his room, stripping off his clothes as he goes. He only starts to warm up when he’s rubbing a towel over his body, sopping up what water’s left, although by the trail left behind him it looks like he left most of it on the floor.

Much dryer but still shivering, he grabs the first item of clothing he sees. It’s his sweatshirt—white with orange fox paws up the sleeve, the same one given to everyone on the team—and he hums pleasantly as he pulls it on. It’s big and warm and, more importantly, dry . He slips on a pair of sweatpants too, already feeling better.

It’s as he’s attempting to dry his hair a bit more that he hears the bathroom door open, followed by the soft pads of Andrew’s feet crossing the common room. He doesn’t pay it much mind until they suddenly stop and the dorm falls silent.

Dropping his towel, Neil turns around.

Andrew stands at the threshold of their room, unmoving, eyes pinned to Neil. His hair is slightly mussed from sleeping and he looks so soft and cozy in his pajamas that Neil wants to burrow into his arms and pretend he never chose to leave this morning. But he doesn’t move closer, not with the odd look on Andrew’s face. Eyebrows gently tugged up in the center and mouth barely parted. It’s hard to tell if the rosy hue to his cheeks can be blamed on sleep or not.
“What?” Neil asks.

Andrew’s eyes drop down to Neil’s chest, then pointedly skip to the desk across the room. Neil follows his line of sight and sees nothing out of the ordinary. Notebooks and papers scattered across the surface, a lamp with the bulb still burned out, a sweatshirt draped across the chair. Neil looks closer.

The name reads JOSTEN across the shoulders with a big ten below it.

Neil looks down at the sweatshirt he’s wearing, noticing for the first time how it’s longer than usual, wider at the shoulders.

“Oh,” he mumbles.

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

Delight unfurls in Neil’s core, warming him more than the sweatshirt itself. Still, he tugs at the hem and offers, “I can take it off.”

Andrew fixes him with a look, then lets his eyes drag down, down, down.

“Pneumonia is worse than identity theft,” he responds nonchalantly, but Neil knows it’s not sleep that’s making his voice rough. His eyes keep finding their way back to Neil’s chest.

“Staring,” Neil goads and he smiles, slow and satisfied, when Andrew’s eyes jump back to his, something molten swirling behind the pupils.

Andrew pushes off the doorframe and suddenly they’re only inches apart, his hand on Neil’s chin.

“Stop that,” he orders but he doesn’t wait for Neil to obey before pulling him down and getting rid of the grin himself.

The kiss is deep and possessive, a new sensation even if the anger driving it isn’t. Andrew’s hand slips around to grip the nape of Neil’s neck, while the other fists in the collar of his sweatshirt. Neil keeps his hands clenched at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms, but he doesn’t mind Andrew not giving him the green light. He’s more than happy to let Andrew have his way with him.

He kisses with a bruising intensity and his fingers are greedy where they thread through Neil’s hair, pulling on the curls just right, making a moan fight for air in Neil’s throat even as he’s made breathless. Andrew seems to hear it all the same though because he hums so deep Neil can feel it vibrate through his own chest. 

His legs feel less solid than they do even after a full run and it takes considerable effort to remain standing, especially when Andrew bites his lip and Neil’s whole body lights up. A needy noise slips out. He’s burning under Andrew’s touch, everything from his skin to his bones so red-hot that he can’t remember what it was like to ever be cold.

Andrew breaks the kiss, pupils blown wide, lips red and glistening. Moving his hands to Neil’s waist, he steers him backwards until Neil’s legs hit the bedframe and he plops down on the mattress. Andrew cards his hands through his hair again, pulling just enough for Neil’s mouth to open in an exhale. Then he lets go.

Confusion mixes with Neil’s haze of desire, a want that only Andrew can inspire pulling so strongly that it could lift him off the bed, but Andrew just walks away, crossing the small space of their bedroom to the dressers. He opens a drawer and starts taking out clothes.

“What are you doing?” Neil’s voice is thick.

“Getting dressed.”

That seems to Neil the exact opposite of what he should be doing.

“Why?”

Andrew glances back at him. “Didn’t know fanatics like you were capable of forgetting about practice.” 

Looking at Andrew’s flushed face Neil thinks he could forget his own name. When he doesn’t respond—too busy watching the muscles in Andrew’s stomach and arms contract as he pulls on a new shirt—Andrew exhales. Throwing the old shirt in the hamper, he finds his place in front of Neil once more, getting closer than Neil’s fuzzy mind can function with as he braces his arms on the mattress at either side of Neil’s hips.

“I can’t take care of you right now,” Andrew says, matter-of-fact, his breath ghosting across Neil’s lips. They’re both well aware of the tightness in Neil’s shorts.

“We have time,” Neil sighs, hypnotized by Andrew’s proximity. Being this close to him is always intoxicating, more addicting than exy could ever be.

“Not for what I want to do to you.” He presses closer, mouthing at the hinge of Neil’s jaw.

“ Andrew ,” Neil breathes.

Andrew pulls away, the twist of his lips hinting at a wicked smile. He walks to the door and doesn’t look back as he says, “Let’s go. I’m not running laps for you.”

Neil takes a second to collect himself before following.

By the time they pull into the parking lot, everyone else is already there. He’s not surprised given how they’re just minutes away from the start of practice. Neil keys the code into the gate and Andrew pushes him through, his hand staying on the small of his back as they walk through the halls—a distracting weight that when paired with the events of this morning almost has Neil suggesting they ditch and make better use of their time.

When he opens the door to the lounge the boisterous voices of the Foxes greet them and Andrew’s hand falls away.

As Neil turns to look at him, Nicky shouts, “ Ah hah!”  

The sheer volume of it nearly makes Neil jump. He looks at Nicky but Nicky is already pointing at him. The freshmen are staring, some confused and others critical, but it’s the upperclassmen who catch Neil’s attention. Matt’s smile is big and smug, partially obscured as he gently bumps Dan, who is shaking her head. Allison is frowning in distaste, glancing at Renee who is the picture of serenity. Kevin turns his back on all of them, focusing on tightening his shin guards, and Aaron leans back in his chair, radiating an arrogance Neil doesn’t understand. 

“That settles it,” Nicky decides.

“Hold on,” Dan starts.

“The only thing that settles is why they’re late,” Allison says but her eyes are tight.

“We aren’t late,” Neil points out but it does little to placate whatever this is.

“You’re late enough,” Kevin nags.

“ That ,” Nicky gestures wildly between Neil and Andrew, who has also stopped in his tracks to watch the theatrics, “is not casual.”

Allison crosses her arms. “Fuck buddies can share clothes.” 

Nicky shakes his head. “Not personalized clothes—it’s a claim. Like Aaron giving Katelyn his letterman.”

That smug glint vanishes from Aaron’s eyes like it’s been squashed. “Disgustingly enough, yes.” 

“ Boyfriend behavior.” Nicky snaps his fingers. “Cough it up girls.”

Allison groans. “I hope your boy-toy is worth it, Josten. He’s not the only one you’ve just fucked.”

“Sounds like you need it,” Aaron snarks. She flips him off. 

“This is almost better than winning championships,” Matt beams. Neil catches Kevin rolling his eyes in disgust.

Dan smacks his arm. “Don’t be so giddy about taking your girlfriend’s money.”

“I’m just happy for Neil.”

Dan scoffs.

“ I , on the other hand,” Nicky cuts in, “am thrilled to be taking your money.” 

“Take your gloating elsewhere or else I’ll castrate you myself.” Allison clacks her nails on the bench menacingly, but Neil doesn’t get to see if it has the intended effect because Andrew’s hand is suddenly on the nape of his neck, pushing him on towards the locker room. 

Neil lets himself be steered, happy to get a reprieve from the Foxes’ nonsense.

As the door closes behind them he hears Jack mutter, “What the fuck was that?” to the other freshmen before the rest of the conversation is lost.

Alone again Neil takes a breath. Andrew doesn’t linger, going to his locker to retrieve his practice gear. Neil watches him for a moment, but his shoulders are relaxed and his movements are unbothered. He seems completely at ease despite their teammates prying into their relationship, trying to pick apart the nothing label that has been fed to them. 

“Forget which locker is yours?” Andrew asks, not turning around.

“What was that about?” 

“Our teammates have gambling problems.” 

Well, that’s true, Neil supposes. The Foxes have been making bets long before he first stepped foot at Palmetto. Neil still has yet to participate in one and he doesn’t plan to, partly because he just doesn’t understand why they bother.

Taking Andrew’s response as answer enough, Neil goes to his locker too and starts changing out. With only Andrew in the room he doesn’t bother going into a stall. He switches out his shorts and strips out of his sweatshirt, taking his t-shirt off with it. As he places them in his locker for safekeeping, he feels the weight of attention on his skin. Turning, he meets Andrew’s gaze where he’s leaning against his own locker, already dressed save for the cumbersome goalie gear, and Neil quickly recognizes the appreciative heat in those hazel eyes.

Neil raises an eyebrow, sure that he’s not able to sufficiently hide the amusement from his face, and Andrew’s ears turn pink. Clenching his jaw, he leaves the locker room without another word, but the lingering look he gives Neil promises a later— a continuation of this morning when they’ll have no responsibilities to interrupt them. Pulse kicking up, he hurries to catch up with the team.

He’s going to start wearing that sweatshirt a lot more often.