Andrew was staring at him, his arms crossed, ready to kick him out the second he made any move that even suggested he was going to take Neil away. He had wanted to kick him out before he even got his foot in the door but Neil had insisted on hearing what he had to say. So now, Neil, Stuart, Kevin, Nicky, and Andrew were in their living room in awkward silence, waiting.
Finally, Stuart cleared his throat.
“I need your help, Nathaniel.”
“It’s Neil now.”Andrew’s fingers dug into his bicep, needing to stop himself from taking a swing at this guy.
Stuart nodded. “Right, Neil.”
Neil regarded him cautiously. He was family, the only family who had been able to save him from his father, but he was still a member of the mob and he didn’t know how far he could trust.
“You’re calling in your favor, right?”
“Favor?” Nicky sounded horrified. “From what, saving your life? You’re family! What is this, the Godfather?”
“Be quiet, Nicky.” Neil didn’t take his eyes off Stuart. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need one of your aliases. I’ve got someone looking to disappear, and I want to give him an identity that’s already been established so he’s not coming in out of nowhere.”
Neil nodded. “I can give you my German one, I’ve still got the passport and birth certificate for it.”
Andrew stiffened at this. He didn’t like the idea that Neil had some contingency plan hidden away at the back of his closet in case he needed to run again. On the other hand, if he was giving it away he hadn’t been thinking about using it. Of course, there were still so many more…
“What did you look like then?”
“Blonde, with green contacts.”
Stuart nodded, writing this down in a small notebook. “Anyone you knew that could verify his identity? Old contacts you could call in?”
“An ex bodyguard we had there, I’ll see what he can do. If not, I’m sure the Moriyamas have someone there they can put up to it.”
It was strange seeing Neil like this. Andrew had seen him backed into a corner, wild eyed with fear and willing to do anything to survive. He had imagined that was how Neil had always been while on the run, but now he could see that wasn’t true. Here Neil was calm and pragmatic, recalling all the necessary information from the old days on a second’s notice. Andrew wondered if he’d always be like that; instinctually ready to run, knowing exactly where to go and who to be.
Stuart continued to pepper Neil with questions on how best for this person to take on this German persona. His fake background, where he could have been all this time, fake family, what his mother’s persona had been. The whole time Nicky looked sick and Kevin looked horrified, truly realizing the life he’d almost had. He’d been beaten and tortured by Riko, he’d had to run after his hand was all but destroyed. But he hadn’t run like this. He hadn’t been Neil. He hadn’t known the spray of bullets after him, the feel of them cracking through muscle and bone, and saw of a knife over his skin. Andrew hated the thought, and hated more that it was all being brought back for Neil in this place that was supposed to be safe.
“Alright, that’s all I should need for now.” Stuart tucked away the notebook as Neil went to get the paperwork he would need for whoever this was to take up Neil’s old identity. “If I need anything else-”
“You can call,” Andrew finished for him. He didn’t want any more mob bosses from Neil’s past popping in and out like they belonged here. They weren’t part of Neil’s life anymore.
When he came back and handed over what Stuart needed, Andrew took stock of him. Face neutral and composed, hands still and firm, but shoulders trembling ever so slightly. It would take him a while to come down from this later tonight. If Kevin tried to get him to go to their midnight training session, Andrew would threaten to break his other hand.
“That should be all. I’ll stay out of touch unless I need you.”
Neil nodded. “Alright. And… Thank you, Stuart.”
He cocked his head to the side. “For what?”
“For whoever this is you’re helping run away.”
Stuart lowered his head a little, the formality going away ever so slightly. “It’s what I would have done for you and your mother, had I known.”
“I know. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Neil Josten. I hope it is a very long time before we hear from each other again.”
“So do I.” Neil walked him out, closing the door firmly behind him and locking it. He took a deep breath in, and Andrew waited, ready in case Neil needed him, needed to break after that harsh call from the past. But instead he just let the breath out slowly, relaxing his shoulders.
“You know, studies show that long distance running is actually really bad for your health.”
Neil hadn’t noticed Andrew leaning against the dorm when he started stretching, but he doesn’t let his surprise show. He switches quads and flicks an unimpressed look towards Andrew.
“Andrew, I fully expected I’d be dead by now,” Neil says. “I don’t give a fuck if this messes with my knees when I’m 50 or whatever.”
Andrew doesn’t have nightmares like Neil does. He doesn’t jerk awake panting, doesn’t take minutes to shake his way down from the sick adrenaline that his own subconscious triggers. He doesn’t scream, doesn’t thrash, doesn’t bolt afterwards like the runner he swears he isn’t.
When a therapist pre-Bee asked him about nightmares, Andrew told him that there was nothing he could dream about that was worse than what he’d lived through. He said it to shock, with the sharpest edge of his drugged humour, and refused to say anything else afterwards. There was another shrink across the desk not long afterwards.
He was lying anyway. There’s always something worse. But nightmares have never a problem for Andrew.
Neil has survived the yakuza. He’s survived his own father’s dedicated attempts at killing him, and come out of it scarred and with an even shittier attitude than before. He survived whatever came before that on the run, the marks clear as day on his skin.
He’s a cat with nine lives who must have used up eight of them. It hasn’t made him more careful. He’s a reckless asshole who balances on the edge of buildings, who drives a hair over the speed limit with one hand easy on the wheel, who can’t open his mouth without daring someone to break him. Who doesn’t even seem to realise he does any of that.
A fall, a crash, a single hit could wipe away everything that is Neil Josten. Neil can’t seem to stop flirting with them, less self-destructive than he is purely ignorant of the fact of his own mortality.
Self-destruction isn’t the only kind of destruction, of course. There are plenty of regular, everyday ways to die.
14. “How can I hate someone that I’m in love with?” (Hi there I combined this with another request, so this is the sequel to my 99 prompt with Neil getting hurt !!)
“All they had in the tooth-rotting section at the corner store was coffee crisp and triple fudge so I got both,” Neil announces, shouldering their door open with his hands full of ice-cream tubs and an array of keys.
He’s taken to wearing them on a lanyard like a school teacher, and Andrew knows he does it because he wants them at hand, near his heart. Renee bought him a fox charm and it hangs between the key to the court and the first one Andrew ever gave him — he’s memorized the shape of it without trying to.
Kevin glances at Neil over the screen of his laptop and stands immediately, walking wordlessly to his room. He retreats to his bedroom whenever Andrew and Neil are in a room together, lately. ‘A precautionary measure’ he’d sneered when Nicky had asked.
“Is that okay?” Neil says, suddenly standing above Andrew, head cocked.
“It’s acceptable,” Andrew replies, and opens his hand. Neil presses the triple fudge into his palm, and produces a plastic spoon from the shopping bag to balance on top.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to wait,” he explains, mouth quirked.
Andrew ignores him, hooking his finger in the plastic seal and breaking it apart. Neil collapses into the couch next to him, tossing his feet up over Andrew’s lap and dropping the bag on the carpet. Andrew looks at him. “It’ll melt.”
“Eat fast,” Neil says, and grabs Andrew’s first spoonful for himself.
“I should’ve let the FBI take you.”
“You should’ve,” Neil says seriously, “Now I’m your problem full-time.” He leans in enough that Andrew can see the chocolate in the corner of his mouth, the complicated relationship between his freckles and his burns —
“Andrew!”
He’s yanked back to the present by Nicky’s frantic voice, a high discordant thing like a wrong note in a bad piece of music. The rest of the foxes crest over the slant of the hallway, a wave of good intentions that pushes Andrew back into the wall and takes his breath. He can’t deal with them, he can’t escape to somewhere else when prying voices are trying to keep him here. He can’t be fighting to see Neil with foxes holding his hands behind his back.
“What’s the news,” Allison asks when they’re close enough, looking uncharacteristically haggard with her lipstick wearing away and her shirt untucked.
Andrew shakes his head.
“He’s not…” Dan starts to ask, horrified, and Andrew’s fists clench so hard his knuckles crack.
“No,” Matt says firmly. “The monster would be ripping this place apart.”
Andrew produces a knife instantly, and renee catches his wrist, eyes hard and terrible above her smile. “You’re going to get yourself kicked out of the hospital.”
He hates it, he hates it, because it’s the only thing that could’ve made him stop.
He drops the knife on the floor and Renee quietly stoops to pick it up and pocket it.
“He’s going to be okay, Andrew,” Nicky says earnestly, skirting carefully around Renee to stand in front of him.
“He’s survived worse,” Kevin agrees, an old haunted look on his face.
“Don’t,” Andrew says. It’s all he can manage.
There’s a knife in his chest and Neil has the handle; if he dies now the blade never comes out. If he dies it won’t matter how much armour Andrew puts on, the knife is already in, always.
(100 years later I finally got to your prompt, mac-noa ! I wasn’t explicitly lovey dovey bc I didn’t want to be ooc and it’s only actually from Matt’s POV, but I hope it works for you!!!)
Matt and Dan walk in late, strung together by the hands, still flushed from kissing in the car pre-practice. They go sheepish when they see the unimpressed look on Wymack’s face. Renee smiles brightly at them and Allison gives them a brisk nod, but the monsters are in more disarray than usual. Bits and pieces of their group are missing, and it leaves Matt with the peculiar feeling of looking at a familiar photograph that suddenly has the faces scratched out.
Their ringleader is absent, for starters, couch conspicuously empty beside Kevin — who looks unmoved and stoic and nauseated as usual.
It’s not unusual for Andrew to do things just because it’s inconvenient for others, but it’s a little weird for Neil to skip out as well. It’s a lot weird that he’s late at the same time as Andrew when Exy hangs in the balance.
Any association between them feels like something Matt has to fix, like he set something bad in motion by meeting Neil later than Andrew did in the fall. They’re probably off having one of their weird, close, angry looking conversations that always end in agreements Matt doesn’t understand.
Wymack waits thirty seconds past Matt and Dan’s arrival, and then he looks at the couch like it’s causing him pain, and starts delegating tasks for the day. He only asks once where the missing links are and there’s a lot of shrugging and staring straight ahead before he gives up.
They’re less rowdy than usual, and Matt thinks they’re all individually trying to solve Neil and Andrew’s absence in their heads. (As soon as they get up to move to the court, Allison starts whispering numbers for their betting pool until Dan bats her away.)
Matt squeezes Dan’s hand until she looks at him, and they have a brief conversation in smothered smiles.
They split up to change, and Matt straps into his gear feeling vaguely ill at ease. He keeps glancing at the door between straps and tugs of his uniform, and he notices Nicky doing the same thing. He smiles awkwardly when Matt catches him, and Matt feels a rare pulse of kinship for him. Both Andrew’s lot and the upperclassmen seem equally confused, so they have something in common for once.
The strange feeling follows Matt all the way to the court and through the first set of drills before Neil finally shows up, looking harried and flushed and all sorts of things Matt doesn’t usually associate with Neil.
He pushes into the court straight past Wymack’s blustering reprimand, and Matt catches the tail end of a flippant apology before Neil’s sprinting to centre court.
Matt stares at him. Neil waits, twisting his racquet in his hand, shoulders tense like he expects someone to toss him into the gameplay by force.
“What?” Neil asks, annoyed.
“You’re late,” Matt says stupidly.
“Twenty minutes late,” Kevin interrupts. “Almost like you’re trying to get worse.”
“He was with me,” Andrew says suddenly, breezing past them towards goal looking impossible to have spent twenty straight minutes with. Neil sort of jolts at the sound of his voice, and Matt eyes him narrowly.
Ha I had fun with this one 😀 can you tell I’m getting tired though pfft
Rule number one of Criminal Psychology 101: Don’t make eye
contact with the five-foot stack of unimpressed boredom that is Professor
Minyard
Rule number two: if I catch you eating the abomination that
is sour candy one more time, Johnson, you’re getting an F on your next essay
and I don’t give a fuck
Rule number three: stay quiet and listen because he may
sound like he doesn’t care but he knows a shocking amount and will talk
non-stop about his subject if you don’t interrupt and holy shit is anyone
recording this because you might just pass this class if you can memorise this
shit
Rule number four: apparently the professor carries knives
around sometimes? Don’t ask stupid questions
Rule number five: ask the stupid questions in his office
after the lecture and receive a free mug of cocoa with your answer
Rule number six: he will absolutely refuse to talk about any
personal issues but rumour has it one girl had a nervous breakdown about her
grades and he just marched her to the medical wing and gave her a blanket pass
but if you tell anyone he will glare
at you and that’s worse than the knives
Rule number seven: don’t mention the cat hair on his sleeve
Rule number eight: the professor seems to mark up essays and
projects on the criminalisation of mental illness and prejudice in the law
system so get on that shit and what the fuck this is horrifying reading
Rule number nine: the professor’s been a bit more chilled
lately? The betting pool is getting ridiculous on what’s causing it but
everyone seems to think he’s found a good lay; do not ever mention the betting
pool out loud
Rule number ten: what the fuck is that a wedding ring
Rule number eleven: why yes it is Johnson, congratulations
on having eyes
Rule number twelve: don’t scream when the extremely hot
languages professor comes in and kisses professor Minyard’s cheek hoe don’t do it
Sometimes Neil dreams of the past. Sometimes the dreams are so vivid he can smell his mother’s corpse as it burns, so vivid he can hear wit absolute clarity the clang of his father’s ax, so vivid he can see the metal glint off Lola’s knife as she carves his arms to ribbons.
Sometimes he can feel Riko’s knife as it slips beneath his skin, as he hits him until blood fills his mouth, as he makes him run plays until Neil is past the point of pain. It’s like he’s paralyzed, unable to move, unable to fight back.
He doesn’t realize he’s dreaming until his eyes are snapping open, his gaze landing on a hardened face with messy blonde hair, steady hands on his shoulders.
He’s pretty sure someone is screaming, and it takes a moment for him to understand that it’s him, but then Riko’s knife is back, his matches are back, his fists are back, and Neil is powerless beneath him, just as he was the first time, and he can’t stop. He can’t stop his own voice, just as he couldn’t stop Riko’s torture. It lasted so long, god, it lasted so long. Days and days and days and weeks, time running on and slowing down and stretching out.
Then strong arms are wrapping around him, and he’s being pulled against someone’s chest; he knows from the feel of them it isn’t violent, that it’s meant for comfort.
this was inspired by something @key-called-home said, but i don’t remember what. i dont know if it makes any sense bc i just kinda put everything out there and it made me cry but oh well enjoy
Here he is. With his back against the wall, face turned towards
Neil, here he is. There’s a cat in between them, and one at Andrew’s feet, the
window must not be closed all the way because cold, biting wisps of air hit
Andrew’s face, but here he is. Neil’s eyes are closed, and it’s a rare occasion
when Andrew gets to see him like this. He looks, for all intents and purposes,
like he shouldn’t be here. Fast asleep he looks a lot less like the smart mouth
Andrew knows and a lot more like someone who should never have been with The
Foxes to start with, but here he is.
So I have a 6,000 word plus Theatre AU (in which Andrew is a musical theatre star) in the works but while I work on that I would really love some fic recs from you amazing people
hell yes, idk how many fics you’ve been read so far, but I’d try anyway 🙂
the complete ones:
I really adore Saul’s fic, some of them are Beasts. There is this Mermaid!Neil and Pirate!Foxeswhich is absolutely adorable. It’s so very very in character and heartwarming. (Neil is very canon is2g, skittish and everything)
Another fluff by Saul is time will tell, where Neil turns into an 8 y.o boy and the Foxes have to take care of him. This Kid!Neil is something I’d protect forever honestly.
To Save A Life by @coldsaturn. I have no words for this. It’s just captivating. One of the best fic that ever written. I really really like the concept of the fic, even it left me even broken a little in the end.
There’s even a Zombie AU which amuses me to no end. (the cats are there omg)
All he Foxes as children (well, almost all of them): sickeningly sweet (like honey)by @broship-addict . This AU is hurt just a little bit less than the canon, tbh, but it’s really worth it.
Ghost!Neil AU, where Neil is the ghost that haunting a ghost hunters group, The Foxes. I love how Neil is as sassy as ever.
Sosmed AU. The Minyard/Josten rivalry is Real. It’s hillarious.
I don’t know how to describe this fic, it’s basically a not-really-Sandman AU: The First Breath? but @nekojitachan said, you don’t have to know the real Sandman story, everything you need to know is there and it’s legen-wait for it-dary!
Last but not least (I save the one I love the most), I love love love this fic. It’s a fic about Andreil and their moments in their life, narrated from Andrew POV. and it’s perfect, I tell you. light fires at night (to push back the void)
or going by the author that I know so far, in no particular order, the most gifted people in this fandom (bless them all):
Taylor, my wife, loml, you are the best and it has been six months since you sent this and I’m sorry, but here’s me trying to make up for that i had to start with one that’s like basically canon sns and so I present to you, my dear: 5 times Andrew opens a water bottle for Neil and 1 time he doesn’t
I.
After a life on the run, working and living through life-threatening injuries, Neil never imagined that small acts could cause him so much pain. But simply trying to twist the cap off of his water bottle has him crying out and cradling his hands to his chest.
“What did I tell you,” Andrew asks, seemingly uninterested.
Neil grits his teeth around the pain. He knows what Andrew said.
Nothing but My Aching Soul 