It’s me, back with another ridiculous ficlet. You can blame Una for this one. She reached the point in The Raven King (can you believe she’s taken about a month to get here) where Nicky tells Neil not to trust him to pick a Halloween costume because he’ll “probably dress [him] as a French maid or something,” and immediately requested ((read: demanded)) a ficlet in which Nicky does just that. So, here it is. Rather than doing a canon-divergent situation, I wrote something that’s set a way into the future where everyone is happy. Also, Andreil’s cats feature, in Halloween costumes no less, because obviously I had to get them in somewhere. You’re … welcome?
“So, Neil,” asks Nicky airily, his voice crackling slightly through the phone. “What are you planning on wearing for Halloween? Are you and Andrew coordinating outfits?”
Neil glances at Andrew who, as usual, isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention, more preoccupied with trying to scoop rapidly-melting ice cream onto a wafer of insufficient structural integrity. An autumn breeze does nothing to disturb the sodden leaf piles outside, and a light drizzle patters against the large windows of the diner. Neil would wonder at Andrew’s food choice if he didn’t know him so well.
“I don’t know,” replies Neil eventually, gaze still stuck on Andrew’s ice cream. Andrew freezes for a second, eyes flicking to Neil before he stuffs the wafer in his mouth. He pushes the bowl towards Neil slightly, eyebrow raised slightly in question, and Neil shakes his head in response, grinning slightly as he turns his attention back to Nicky. “We haven’t talked about it.”
Andrew narrows his eyes momentarily before deciding the conversation isn’t worth his time and going back to his sundae. Beside him sit Kevin and Thea, who have been conversing in hushed tones since practice ended. The last Neil was able to pick up, they were discussing the US Court lineup for the Olympics qualifying matches; he highly doubts that Nicky’s Halloween plans will be of any consequence to them right now. Neil himself has half a mind to hang up the phone and join their conversation. He has a few ideas on which backliners should be working with Andrew if they want an airtight defence line.
“How about you let me sort something out?” asks Nicky, and Neil doesn’t like his tone of voice. It may be the distortion, but he sounds suspiciously sly.
“Andrew won’t go for that.”
“Just for you, then.”
Neil sighs. Nicky’s not going to back down in a hurry, and he’d rather not be on the phone for hours. “Okay, fine.”
Nicky emits a delighted sound that Neil can’t describe as anything other than a squeal. “I can’t wait. Our first Halloween in Berlin together. It’s going to be so much fun. I’ve been getting Erik to help plan our route for the evening. He says there’s a bar that serves eyeballs in all their drinks on Halloween. I mean, I don’t think they’re real eyeballs -”
“Can’t wait, Nicky,” interjects Neil, mindful of Andrew’s now-empty bowl and Kevin’s itch to spend as much time on the court as possible before he’s torn away from it for a long weekend. “We’ll see you in a few days.”
“Bis dann! I’ll have an incredible costume waiting,” sings Nicky, and the line clicks dead.
Neil’s Halloween debacle
Published
Nothing but My Aching Soul 