A messy thing I wrote in like an hour because I saw this post by @acerenee and then I realized I could use this with the prompt ‘on the commute home’ on the Andreil card from @aftgbingo so like. Yeah

****

Neil needs to get to work, and this line hasn’t moved for the past fifteen minutes.

It’s not often that he has to go to campus, because most of his classes are taught online.

Today, however, is special; he needs to physically be on campus for a faculty meeting. But he’s going to be fucking late because somebody is holding up the ticketing queue. He should’ve just gone for the ticket machines, in retrospect.

“Hey!” a man behind him yells. “What the hell is taking so long?”

A few other people shout their dissatisfaction and demand to know the same.

A slew of frantic sentences fly down the line. There is a buzz of murmured confusion among the people, and Neil sighs.

He pushes his way through the crowd to the front of the line. A tall, frustrated man is hunched over the ticket window, throwing a “Patience, please!” to the line of angry people behind him.

The problem is – he is speaking in Russian, and nobody can understand a lick of what he is saying. Nobody but Neil, anyway.

“Excuse me,” he says in Russian. “May I help you?”

The man stops rambling to the station agent behind the window and turns to Neil, eyes widening in surprise. Then his face breaks into relief and delight as he begins to explain that he needs to get to the museum but he wants a three-day pass that covers zones A to C, with a 1-day pass that covers only zone D.

Neil relays this information in English to an unruffled Minyard, who performs the transaction with brisk efficiency. It’s quite contradictory to his claims of I do not care about this job.

After the Russian man squeezes Neil in a hug, showers him with a rush of gratitude, and potters away with his oversized luggage, Minyard says, “So the professor speaks Russian.”

He’s in a good mood today, ‘good’ being a very loose term. For all Neil knows, he could be feeling unbridled joy under that veneer of perpetual indifference. Neil only thinks he’s in a good mood because he’s not ignoring Neil like he does on some days, acting like he isn’t aware of Neil’s existence.

“So he does,” Neil says, propping an elbow on the counter. “Get me my usual.”

“This is not a bar,” Minyard points out, “and you are jumping in front of the line.”

“Oh, it’s not? Could’ve fooled me, with all the noise and large crowds. And I just rescued you from an angry mob. You could thank me by giving me my ticket and letting me get on a train.”

Neil isn’t sure that Minyard would do it, but Minyard prints out a round-ticket and slides it through the hatch on the transparent window.

“Get out of my sight.”

Neil accepts the ticket and drops a few coins on the counter.

“See you around,” he says, tapping his fingers to his temple in a mocking salute. On his way to the platforms, he feels his lips flicking upwards in a small smile.

*

“Still hard at work, I see.”

Minyard, in his white button-up shirt and black armbands, levels him with a blank stare through the window. Neil himself is in office attire, but his tie had been stuffed into his messenger bag as soon as he got out of the meeting and his jacket is hanging off his elbow. He folds his arms on the counter, staring right back at Minyard.

“Do you ever go outside of your booth or are you surgically implanted in there?”

Instead of remaining in his seat and staring stonily at Neil like he usually does, Minyard gets to his feet. He exits the ticket kiosk and goes around to where Neil is standing.

“Do you ever keep your mouth shut or are you physically incapable of doing so?”

“Hmm, the latter.”

Minyard kicks the side of Neil’s foot. He’s even shorter than Neil, but he looks formidable enough, with his penetrating gaze and burly arms.

“Tell me, what time do you usually leave work?”

Neil sees Minyard swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and looks at a point above Neil’s shoulder.

“Why do you want to know?”

Neil shrugs. “Just curious. I saw you when I left this morning and I see you now when I come back. You must be pretty tired.”

“Seeing you always makes me tired.”

“You’re welcome,” Neil says without missing a beat.

“And what will you be doing after a long day at work?” Minyard asks, his voice as toneless as it always is.

“I’ll take a shower, eat something, play with my cat, check my emails to make sure I don’t have a student panicking about their grade in the middle of the night. Boring stuff.” Neil tilts his head to the side a little. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I leave when I want to.”

“Is that so.”

“Was there an emergency today.”

This makes Neil frown. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You only go to the university on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Minyard’s still not meeting Neil’s eyes, which is odd.

“I normally do. But there was a meeting this morning, with the new dean. It wasn’t anything too important, though.”

Minyard parts his lips to say something, but seems to have second thoughts when the station master strides up to them. Neil sees him sometimes – his name is Wymack, if Neil isn’t mistaken – when he’s out patrolling the platforms.

“Minyard. Would you like to tell me why you’re not in your booth?”

“No, I would not.”

Wymack exhales noisily through his mouth. “I don’t even know why I bother.” He glances at Neil, then back at Minyard. When he turns to Neil again, his eyes are scrutinizing. “Sir, can I help you with something?”

Neil doesn’t particularly like men who are old enough to be his father. Childhood trauma and all that. He backs away a little, putting on a faint, cordial smile. “Oh, no, not at all. I was about to leave, but I just wanted to say hi to Mr. Minyard here.”

“That so. Well, if he gives you any trouble, you let me know right away. I’ll set him straight.”

“That would be homophobic,” Minyard says blandly.

Neil’s eyebrows climb up to his hairline. Huh. He’d never noticed.

Minyard is finally looking at him now, watching him closely as if he is studying every shift in Neil’s expression.

“What is it?”

Minyard rakes his eyes over Neil from head to toe before he looks away again.

“Nothing.”

*

The next time he sees Minyard, he almost punches him right on his nose.

He’s always been hot-headed, but maturing into an adult has taught him some self-restraint and the ability to keep his temper on a short leash. But frankly speaking, he’s had quite enough of Minyard’s drastic personality swings. Coupled with the fact that he’d had a rotten day at work – well, it’s probably inevitable that he would snap.

He had said a simple hello to Minyard after he had passed through the turnstiles, but he had gotten a disgusted scowl in return.

“Oh, so I guess I’m not even worth a ‘hey there’, huh?”

Minyard’s scowl deepens. “What?”

“I mean, a little friendly ‘hi’ never killed anybody. I know that we’re only acquaintances, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like I don’t even exist just because you’re in a shitty mood.”

A couple of people steer away from the booth and scurry off to the next window. Minyard looks at Neil like he’s never even seen him before.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Neil takes a deep, long breath. His rage boils just underneath his skin, threatening to spill over. He wants to smash his fist through the window and into Minyard’s mouth. But he merely clenches his hand and grinds his teeth. It’s unfair of him, too, to take out his foul mood on another person.

“Nothing,” he bites out. “I’m talking about absolutely nothing.”

He turns and walks away.

*

When he buys his ticket the next Tuesday, he doesn’t even glance at Minyard. He slides his money over, but doesn’t get his ticket.

He fixes his gaze on the map pinned to the wall of the kiosk, the intersecting train and bus lines like some misshapen spider web.

“You are early today.”

“Just give me my ticket.”

“Discourteous as well. I would have thought that being punctual would help to mitigate that rude behavior of yours.”

“Funny how you think I’m the rude one.” He doesn’t give Minyard a chance to retort, continuing with, “Look, are you going to give me my ticket or not? I can go to a different window if you aren’t.”

He feels Minyard’s eyes boring into his face. When his ticket is given to him a few minutes later, he picks it up and leaves without another word.

His day soars by. He gives a lecture on Boolean algebra, holds two hours of office hours, and keys in his students’ homework grades. Next thing he knows, he’s on the commute heading home.

He manages to procure a seat near the doors. The carriage isn’t nearly as full as it would be during peak hours. The sceneries pass by him in a dizzy blur. The train conductor does his rounds, checking on the passengers’ tickets and metro cards.

“Hi, Neil.”

Neil looks up at a grinning Boyd.

“How’s it going? Taught anything cool today?”

“If you think binary numbers are cool, then yeah.” Neil flashes Boyd his ticket, and Boyd beeps it on his bulky ticket-machine-thing.

“That sounds pretty cool to me. You’re getting off at the next stop, right?”

Neil nods.

“Me too. I need to hop on to my next line. Got a few hours left before I can clock out.”

Neil nods again, staring out the windows as a voice filters through the speakers to announce the station. The train pulls to a stop and the doors open in a quiet whoosh. Boyd throws a goodbye at him as he climbs the staircase and exits the platforms.

Minyard is outside the ticket kiosk, hands in his pockets and a cigarette between his lips. The ground around him is littered with cigarette stubs and candy wrappers.

Neil would have walked past him if he didn’t reach out and snag the strap of Neil’s messenger bag. Neil stops, and Minyard steps in front of him, squashing his cigarette out beneath his shoe. He does nothing but stare into Neil’s eyes.

Neil is the one to break the silence, dropping a simple “What do you want?” into the small space between them.

Minyard doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks, his lips pressed together. If Neil doesn’t know any better, he would think that Minyard is nervous.

“Do you drink coffee,” is what he says, just when Neil decides that he’s waited long enough.

“I…do,” Neil says, confused. He’s not sure where this conversation is headed.

Impassively, Minyard says, “Do you want to get coffee together.”

Getting a master’s in Mathematics is probably easier than navigating whatever the fuck is going on right now.

“You’re asking me out on a date.”

Minyard’s silence is confirmation enough. Neil runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment; he’s lost on why Minyard would ask him this when he treats Neil like a bacteria on some days.   

“But you don’t even like me.”

Minyard narrows his eyes.

“You don’t,” Neil repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sometimes you don’t even acknowledge my existence. So I don’t know why you think I would want to grab a drink with you.”

Minyard’s eyes flicker, a brief lapse in his cool persona. “It is a no, then.”

“It’s more of a ‘can you explain to me why you’re suddenly asking me out when you won’t even talk to me on some days?’ Is there an impersonator that I should know about? An identical twin, maybe?” Neil asks sarcastically.

Now it’s Minyard’s turn to close his eyes for a while.

“I do have one,” he tells Neil. “A twin, who also works here.”

Neil stares at him. “You’re joking.”

“Not really what I am known to do.”

Neil mulls this over for a while. There are a few notable differences between the Minyard that talks to him and the Minyard that doesn’t, now that he thinks about it. The armbands, the level of apathy, and – apparently – the interest in Neil.

Huh.

“So you like me, and your brother doesn’t. Okay. I guess it all makes sense now.”

“I never said anything about liking you.”

“How can you not like me?” Neil says with faux-innocence. “You want to go on a date with me, after all.”

Minyard kicks the side of Neil’s foot.

Neil feels a twitch on his lips, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach.

“So, Minyard, about what you asked just now -”

“Andrew.”

Neil blinks, then smiles. “Andrew,” he says, “ask me again.”

Andrew looks supremely unimpressed, but –

“Do you want to get coffee together.”

Neil hums, pretending to think about it.

“No,” he finally says, “I’d prefer it if we get dinner instead.”

****

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