“You cannot begin to fathom the amount of fucks I don’t give ” #1 Dad David Wymack protecting his foxes ! Xx

ravenvsfox:

He’s watching tapes from their last game with one sweating hand flat on the desk, the other prodding the rewind button over and over again until the loops stop being anything but cheering and colour. Their lines are sloppier with more people in them. He can see where they’re stretched too thin and where the strikers are overcompensating.

He can see the tension in their ranks even though they’re trying to pull together, like they’re slapping a bandaid on a broken leg.

“Knock knock.”

Wymack looks up to find Abby hefting food through the doorway like some sort of dream. She unpacks armfuls of it onto the table and gives him a private smile when he catches her eye over the wavering paused TV.

“That for me?”

“Well this would be a hell of a show if it weren’t,” she laughs, piling a wrapped burger on top of a plastic container of caesar salad.

“Didn’t want to assume,” he grumbles, reaching for one of the burgers. She slaps his hand away.

“Wash your grubby hands first.”

He raises both hands in surrender, muttering, “you let the kids eat finger food with blood on their hands but I can’t hold a burger without scrubbing down—“

“David,” Abby interrupts pointedly. “The faster you clean the faster you eat.”

He rolls his eyes on the way to the bathroom and then rolls them all the way back to his office, keeping his affection in a headlock. Abby’s sitting with her legs crossed and her food unwrapped when he gets back, and he spies two ketchup packets lined up beside his burger, just how he likes it. He’s biting on a smile when his phone rings.

Abby startles, Wymack fumbles in his pocket, Neil’s name blinks up at him.

“Can’t you eat lunch at noon like a normal person, Josten?”

There’s a shifting noise, like paper sliding over the receiver, and then Neil says, “Coach?”

Wymack frowns at Abby across the room. She gives a little questioning head shake with her eyebrows raised, perfectly poised to be upset. He hates that they’re always bracing for fucking heartbreak around here.

“Yeah, Neil. Talk to me.”

“Uh, yeah, listen. Andrew might have killed someone.”

Wymack closes his eyes. Breathes in for three long beats, holds his hand up when he hears Abby shifting to her feet. “What do you mean might have? And think about the words you’re about to say to me, Neil, because if you try to cover Andrew’s ass I’ll get real impatient real fast, understand?”

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neil and any of the fox fam with #1? i live for angst

ravenvsfox:

01: “I’m sorry.”

In retrospect, they really should’ve hired some sort of security for the court. It sits nestled into campus like Palmetto’s gaudy oversized jewel, bright bright white like glaring snow, impossible to pass by without some part of you wanting to deface it.

It’s also like a neat little box with Neil’s name on the label. Even though his biggest enemies are mercifully holding back with an open palm and a cocked gun, he has a host of new people to fight since he’s been in the news. A thousand more misguided fans trying to come calling.

A year ago he would’ve understood that staying at Palmetto is like a wanted man staying in a burning house, waiting for the smoke or the police to get him first. But Neil has a taste for smoke, now. It’s so easy to stay at the court, where he’s surrounded by family — most of whom have mile long protective streaks and criminal records like the markings on poisonous snakes.

He’s not worried. He has Andrew simmering at his side with the best right hook he’s ever seen and a clinical willingness to kill someone if the occasion should call for it. He’s wasn’t worried. He should’ve been worried.

It’s a former Raven who ends up coming for him; someone who took the tyranny of Riko’s regime and tried to shrug the crown on himself. Someone who got a taste for the sweet, dark paralysis of a life that’s never yours.

Neil never leaves a door to close without waiting for the click of the latch, so he can’t imagine how this bulky, wild-eyed person came to be facing him in the heart of the court, palming a gun from his pocket into a threat at half mast.

Neil’s head is a full suitcase. He can’t even see through the panic. There’s stuffing coming out of his eyes and all he wants to do is gather it up and run.

It’s stupid, really, that he hadn’t properly tried to see this coming. He’d discarded the possibility and settled into the flames.

The guy— Spencer?— is a raven dealer with an upper body that could incapacitate Neil with one well-placed collision. He watches the old raven line number shift on his chest as he shoulders the door to the court open. Neil considers the heft of a ball still in his racquet. His aim isn’t precise enough to take out the gun if Spencer still has the presence of mind to be a moving target. Kevin would know how to calculate his odds and find an angle that works, but all Neil has is his nerve and his speed.

“If rumour serves, you’ve changed a lot, Nathaniel.”

Neil shifts backwards, adjusting his grip and breathing through the familiarity of the gesture. Hunted, defended, retreating.

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andreil pda around the foxes pleaseee my soul needs it

pastelanxiete-deactivated201809:

my marvelous anon, i am here to grant thine request, with a small side of accidental lowkey renison. enjoy <3. also on AO3.


He did it. He actually did it. After months of constant warnings and threats, Wymack finally followed through.

Neil can do nothing but stare at the flyer in his hand, mildly in fear and majorly in shock. A mere thirty seconds prior, Wymack had stormed out of his office brandishing this piece of paper like both a white flag and a declaration of war. He had paused just inside the lounge, making sure to gather everyone’s attention, before striding over to Neil and shoving the flyer in his face.

“This is for last weekend,” Wymack had said. “I already—don’t give me that look, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. I already signed you up. It starts at 8:00 AM on Saturday, and unless you want your ass glued to the bench for the rest of the season, I suggest you be there.” He had then turned back around and disappeared into the hallway, leaving a room full of confused and curious Foxes in his wake.

A full minute passes before chaos breaks out and everyone starts moving at once. Various forms of “What the hell?” can be heard from all corners of the room. Neil blinks as the flyer is yanked out of his hand. He looks up to see Andrew, his eyes scanning the paper. Andrew looks up at him, and Neil’s heart nearly explodes because this look on his face, it looks like the honest-to-god beginnings of a smile. And sure, it’s at Neil’s expense, but he would embarrass the fuck out of himself at every turn if this was his reward. Andrew moves to hand the paper back to Neil.

“Okay, seriously,” Kevin huffs out with impatience as he pushes through his teammates. He snags the flyer away from Andrew who couldn’t be bothered to stop him. Kevin reads aloud, “The Annual Hilton Head Island Marathon…a MARATHON? Really, Neil?! Is this a joke?”

“I don’t know, Kevin,” says Andrew, his voice taking on the persona of a kindergarten teacher. “Did it look like a joke to you?”

Kevin’s only response is to scowl and shove the flyer into Neil’s chest. “This better not affect your performance at our game on Friday. You don’t get to take it easy just because you have to run 26.2 miles the next day.”

By the time Kevin has stormed out of the building, the rest of the Foxes have commenced their team wide freak out.

“Seriously?! He actually came through on that threat?” Dan is caught halfway between being genuinely worried and dying of laughter.

“Neil…bro…what the fuck…” Matt says from somewhere on his left, placing a consoling hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Neil. We have to be there. I have to witness this historic moment. You finally get to put your insane running habits into practice,” Allison is rambling from across the room.

“Wait, what was Wymack talking about ‘last weekend’? What did you do?” Asks Nicky, unaccustomed to being out of the loop.

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audreil:

“Andrew, are you my boyfriend?” Neil asked.

Without actually meaning to, he’d been paying (probably) too
much attention to the way the press referred to Dan and Matt sometimes – the
way “captain Dan Wilds” was sometimes “Matt Boyd’s girlfriend,” or how sometimes
people speculated about “Nicky Hemmick’s boyfriend from Germany.” And when it
came to him and Andrew, Neil didn’t care about labels, not really, or about
what people thought they were to each other. Truthfully, Neil knew that boyfriend wasn’t a sufficient enough
term for their relationship, but it didn’t hurt to tease Andrew once in every
while.

“I am your nothing,” Andrew said, as Neil had expected he
would. He was on the couch, legs pulled up close to his chest with a book balanced
on his thighs.

From his spot on the other end of the sofa, Neil said, “A
rare occasion when you’re wrong,” and bit back his smile. Twisting Andrew’s own
words against him was one of Neil’s favorite pasttimes. “I am your nothing.”

When Andrew said nothing, Neil nudged him with his toes. Andrew
responded with a bored glance before focusing back on his book. Neil crawled
the small space between them and let his head lean against Andrew’s shoulder.

I am you nothing,
and you are my everything,” Neil said,
knowing Andrew was listening. “You are my team, you are my family, you are my
home. And you’re also my boyfriend.”

A hand turned Neil’s face towards Andrew’s, and Andrew’s
golden eyes were… steady. Searching. “You,” he said, “are everything.”

And Neil knew it was true. It would always be true.

Heeeeyyy, if you’re still taking prompts how about “what do you want from me” for andreil with a shit ton of angst? … And some fluff if possible ??? 😆 xx

pastelanxiete-deactivated201809:

one angsty andreil, just for you, my lovely friend! a little lighter on the fluff than i was aiming for, but what can ya do. also on AO3.

send me prompts 🙂


Andrew opens his eyes to the pitch black of their dorm room, unable to move, barely able to breathe. His back is to the wall, his hands are clenched in the sheets, and he is struggling not to bite through his bottom lip. Images of demons past play behind his eyes, so he does his best not to blink. Andrew jumps when Neil makes a small noise in his sleep, and he feels like the walls are closing in on him.

He climbs over Neil, careful not to touch him, and silently makes his way toward the door. He thinks he hears Neil call after him, but Andrew knows he will give him some space. At least for a little while. Andrew leaves the room, fully aware that this is just a feeble attempt at outrunning his own mind.

Neil’s weight beside him is now familiar and can even be a comfort, sometimes. But on the occasions when Andrew’s senses are on overdrive and the smallest movement feels like an avalanche, an earthquake, a fucking planetary realignment, Neil knows better than to take Andrew’s abandonment personally.

Neil’s hoodie is thrown on the back of his desk chair, so Andrew makes his way over to dig out the pack of cigarettes from the pocket. He thinks he could light it with just the fire on the edge of his tongue, but he grabs a lighter from the drawer just in case.

He opens the window with so much force that the glass vibrates harshly for several seconds. Andrew is unconcerned. He watches with disinterest as a small crack forms at the bottom of the windowsill. Whatever. It’s still functional.

He climbs onto his desk and pulls his knees up to his chest, leaning back against the wall before lighting his cigarette and taking a long, slow drag. Andrew wonders if maybe the smoke will clear out the tar in his lungs, if he’ll be able to breathe again. Probably not.

Time passes, and Andrew doesn’t notice. An hour, maybe two. His breath fogs up the window. He stares outside as the sun slowly illuminates the parking lot below. The Maserati begins to take shape, and he has the sudden urge to drive until he can’t anymore. Maybe through the mountains, maybe off a cliff. Who knows.

He must be spending too much time around Neil.

Andrew distracts himself by recalling the highest points of elevation in the United States from a geography book he read in high school. He isn’t even halfway through the list when he hears the bedroom door open. He doesn’t look, but the sound of the door closing lets him know that it’s just Neil. He never lets the door click back into place; he turns the knob and shuts the door, releasing it only when the door is fully closed and will make no noise. Andrew isn’t sure whose sake he does this for. Maybe Kevin’s, maybe his own.

He keeps his gaze trained on the parking lot until he feels Neil approach him. He slowly flicks off the ashes from his cigarette into the small pile he has made on top of Kevin’s history book. Ancient Rome or something equally as useless. Andrew doesn’t care enough to look. He turns his head to see that Neil has stopped a few feet away, running shoes in one hand and a hoodie in the other. He doesn’t say anything, but he extends the hand holding the hoodie, the same one that was on the chair. Andrew looks back to the window and takes note of the layer of frost on the outside. It’s probably a bit above freezing. Funny. Andrew hadn’t noticed.

He reaches out and takes the hoodie. Stares at Neil. Prepares to pry open his jaw and force out a reply to whatever Neil is about to say.

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palmettomonsters:

Andrew and Neil are up on the roof chain smoking and chain not-smoking, respectively, and not talking.

It’s the middle of the night, like 2am or something equally ridiculous, and they have practice in the morning, but here they are anyway. Whatever.

At this hour it’s gotten kind of cold in the dark, and neither of them brought their jackets, but the chill isn’t enough to scare them off. They’re sitting right up next to each other, shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching, so at least their sides are warm where they’re sharing body heat. 

Andrew has torn through his cigarettes far faster than Neil, the result of actively smoking them instead of just waiting for them to peter out. So Neil still has one between his fingers, watching the end smolder and turn to ash, while Andrew is empty handed, watching, well, Neil.

First just watching out of the corner of his eye, tracing the lines of Neil’s fingers as he turns the cigarette over, spreading the smoke. Then his eyes move to Neil’s face, trailing down his neck when Neil tilts his head back to take a deep breath as the breeze blows the smoke towards him. 

Andrew is no longer subtle, if he ever really was. He’s staring, transfixed. Has been for a while.

Neil says, “So I’m not allowed to look at you like that, but you can look at me?” He’s still looking straight ahead, out at the sky, how would he know. 

“Yes,” Andrew says. And after a pause, “You haven’t told me not to.”

Neil bites back a smile. He’s never going to tell Andrew not to. They both know this. 

So Andrew keeps staring, Neil keeps watching his cigarette burn, the embers threatening to go out.

Then Andrew twists and leans towards him, hand going to Neil’s thigh for balance. When Neil notices him move and reach he starts to turn to meet him for a kiss, but he’s a second too late, and that’s not quite what this is.

Neil ends up with his cheek kind of sort of held against Andrew’s as Andrew presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. It’s quick, a light brush of his lips and then gone, but he doesn’t entirely pull back. Andrew stays close for a few more seconds, head tilted forward, with his forehead and nose pressed to the side of Neil’s face. Eyes closed, smelling the smoke that’s clinging to Neil’s hair, listening to the catch in his breath.

Then Andrew does pull away, looking anywhere but at Neil, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes that’s feeling dangerously empty. He takes two of the remaining four and lights one for himself and one for Neil, who doesn’t even seem aware that the one he’s still holding is nothing but ash, ignored now that the tables have turned back to their rightful place where Neil is the one staring. 

Andrew chooses not to comment. He takes a long drag off one of the cigarettes and passes the second to Neil, saying, “Last one,” because it’s too late for this.

Because they need to get to sleep or practice will be hell in the morning. Because they need to get off this goddamn roof. No matter how much time Andrew’s spent up here, no matter how much time he’s spent with Neil, he still hasn’t gotten used to this perceived sensation of falling.

Andriel and “don’t ask me that..” Dialogue prompt ;)

cigarettesmokeandexyracquets:

@lovelifelovebooks asked: Andreil + 20 please and thank you! You’re awesome!

20. “Don’t ask me that.”

After Neil’s story had been told to the FBI in front of Andrew, Neil was sure their secrets game was over. All his secrets had been pulled from him, laid bare on a cold metal table for everyone to see. He had nothing left to trade, so the game must be over. But Andrew has always made a habit of surprising Neil.

“I’m taking a turn,” Andrew said, flicking cigarette ash off the rooftop onto the street below. His head was turned to the side, moon lighting up his angular features in a way Neil had learned to appreciate.

“Okay,” Neil said slowly. He brought a hand up to his mouth and bit at the skin around his thumb in a nervous habit he’d picked up. One of Andrew’s habits.

“What did Riko do to you at Evermore?”

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OKAY YOU KNOW WHEN ANDREW SAYS IN TKM “what are you hoping for coordinates?” AND NEIL RESPONDS “I’m willing to draw a map on you” CAN YOU WRITE ABOUT A TIME WHERE THAT HAPPENS AND HOW IT KINDA CALMS ANDREW BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT THIS PERFECT KID WONT GO OUTSIDE THE LINES (FOR EXTRA FLUFF TO LIKE COMPESTATE FOR THE INEVITABLE ANGST YOU COULD INCLUDE THE FOXES SEEING THE MARKER LINES AND NEILS HAND WRITING SAYING “here is encouraged” “here not so much” and them just crying bc these two kiLL THEM)

quexnk:

why you slay me like this


neil had learned that it was okay to want. he had learned that he could survive based solely on need, but to live for something was to want. 

neil wanted exy. he wanted the foxes. he wanted a home. he wanted andrew. it was four things more than his mother taught him to live with, and four things that were dangerous. it was dangerous to live in a sport that the moriyamas dominated. it was dangerous to have a family. it was dangerous to be comfortable somewhere. and most of all, it was dangerous to love.

those were, of course, the large wants. at first, neil only knew the large wants; he didn’t quite understand that you didn’t always have to put your heart on the line. 

neil was doodling in his notebook’s margins haphazardly, varying from paw prints to cartoon images of the foxes. 

andrew was sitting next to him and neil was prepared for the other man to scold him for not looking at his notes when andrew opened his mouth, but got instead, “why don’t you get a sketch book or something?”

he hadn’t considered pursuing something that was, formerly, a waste of time. he had time now, time to sit in the afternoons and sketch.

neil said nothing and continued his sketching. regardless of neil’s reaction to andrew’s comment, andrew threw a new sketchbook on to neil’s lap the next day.

neil liked the slight rebellious thrill that went through his veins every time he picked up the sketch book. this was still forbidden. this was taking the time to participate in something that had nothing to do with running. every time he did something like this, it felt like rooting himself a little farther into the ground.

one afternoon, andrew laid neil back on the carpet and followed him down to meet their lips. neil had, only moments before, been sketching with the first available utensil–a sharpie. It made so he had a piece of paper between the sheet he worked on and the next page to avoid bleeding. 

now the sharpie sat awkwardly between fingers as his hands carded themselves in andrew’s hair.

neil’s hands eventually made their way down andrew’s torso until they tugged on the ends of andrew’s shirt in silent question. andrew’s hands broke from neil’s body to comply to the request and neil took the new skin in with searching fingers. 

andrew made an annoyed sound and broke their kiss. “are you ever going to drop that marker? or is it that you plan to do something with it?”

neil hadn’t considered it before, but neither had he considered dropping it. andrew’s last sentence, however, had his mind set upon something else. 

“mmm. maybe i do,” neil replied before leaning in to andrew’s neck, pressing a kiss that andrew both leaned into and pulled away from. “but we have to go to the bed for it. more comfortable,” neil finished.

andrew considered it a moment before deciding it was at least worth it to see what neil had in mind. 

andrew stood by the foot of the bed waiting for neil to tell him what to do, which was enough to assure neil that this was a good idea, as andrew rarely gave in to other people’s askance. 

“lay down, either side,” neil said as he uncapped the marker. andrew laid on his back, likely so he could see what neil would do. 

neil was slow in his movements, putting his legs on either side of andrew’s. he let an arm lean on the bed beside andrew’s head as he leaned in for a kiss. neil kept it rather short before moving to press his lips to the hollow that was created by andrew’s collarbones. when andrew sighed deeply, neil lifted and replaced his lips with the marker’s tip and wrote kiss here.

andrew raised an eyebrow in question, but did not stop neil. neil still answered andrew’s wonder. “i told you once i was willing to draw a map.”

“fucking junkie.”

this caused neil’s marker to stray to andrew’s heart, where he wrote warning: contents addictive. he let the ink dry a moment before pressing a kiss to the writing and pausing there. when he lifted andrew was staring down at him, not mad but making his face like he was.

neil continued on his mission, putting a if offguard, here on andrew’s neck, a here is encouraged across the right side of andrew’s ribs, here, not so much just beneath them because it was ticklish spot that andrew refused to admit to.

when neil was content with his work, after andrew had flipped onto his stomach and neil went to work there as well, they texted kevin that he could come back to the dorm and spent the rest of the night playing video games. 

the next day was practice, which meant getting up at what kevin considered to be an ungodly hour to get to the court on time. 

nicky and allison stipulated why andrew didn’t change out with the rest of them and instead went to the stalls. why he didn’t come out with just underclothes, but full gear, neck guard included. they landed on neil putting an undignified amount of hickey’s on andrew’s person. 

neil’s only reaction to andrew’s move was a slight grin, which only fueled nicky and allison’s now bet.

andrew was careful though, so all practice nicky and allison did not get their answer. 

afterwards, wymack called them to sit down for a team meeting. andrew sat in his normal spot between neil and kevin, closer to neil than kevin. 

at one point andrew held out a hand and neil put a phone in it. this was andrew’s mistake, in thinking that nicky was not still watching him. 

nicky broke the conversations in the room by saying, “what’s on your hand, andrew?”

neil watched andrew clutch the phone a little harder as he said, “a phone.”

“on, not in,” nicky quipped.

andrew ignored the comment, choosing to wait for wymack to start the meeting. nicky let it go, favoring too to wait, until andrew was once again not expecting it. 

the answer to the bet was answered, however, not in what laid on andrew’s hand, but in andrew tying his shoes. 

andrew stopped outside the door to the lounge, bending over to tie his shoe. allison had stopped to investigate, to see if she could see the palm of andrew’s hand, but found something more interesting. 

she saw instead the small of andrew’s back where his turtle neck had ridden up. neil had placed another here is encouraged between the dimples of andrew’s back.

when andrew finished tying his shoe, he prepared to stare allison into leaving. he found that she was already taking an exasperated breath and turning around, causing andrew to look to neil for answer.

“your back,” neil supplied. after all, there wasn’t much neil could have done aside from blatantly pulling andrew’s shirt down, which would have drawn more attention.

andrew hadn’t wanted the foxes to know what was written across his skin, but there was no taking back what was seen. he instead matched his palm with neil’s where his said hold here and intertwined their fingers.

“PILLOW FIGHT!” with andreil ^_^

rainbow-femme:

Neil and Andrew were making their bed together. The foxes had all gone on an end of summer trip together to a set of cabins in the woods, far away from the incessant questions from reporters about their upcoming season.
Neil had tossed a pillow at Andrew, assuming he would catch it and put it back in its place, the two having been a bit careless with them the night before. But instead, it hit him in the chest before falling back to the bed. Andrew looked at it a moment before throwing it back at Neil, hard. He lifted the end in one hand, looking at Andrew. Andrew stared back.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Abram.”
“And if I can?”
“Don’t expect mercy.”
“I never have.”
Andrew nodded at this, picked up a pillow of his own, and swung it at Neil’s head.
Neil jumped back, hitting the pillow with his own and knocking it from his hand, getting Andrew hard on the jaw as he went to retrieve it and making him stumble to the side before getting Neil hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, then under the chin, knocking him onto his back. Andrew tried to pin him but Neil got away, getting to the living room and grabbing a second pillow off the couch.
Andrew had followed, throwing a throw pillow at Neil’s head and slamming him hard in the back as he dodged. Neil swung both of his, getting Andrew in the head and the ribs.
The others watched in silence from the porch. Nicky sighed.
“I thought pillow fights were supposed to be sexy.”
Dan grinned. “They’re too competitive to be sexy.”
“Well at the very least Neil could take his shirt off.”
Neil by this point was balanced on top of the couch, unsteady but using the high ground to his advantage. Andrew was attempting to take him out at the back of the knees. Kevin looked like he was about to be sick.
“Our best goalie and striker are purposely trying to injure each other. The season will be over before it starts.”
“They’ll be fine. The worst that will happen is they break a lamp and Allison loses the security deposit.”
Allison seemed unperturbed by the idea, calling for Neil to take Andrews head off while Matt made bets on who would win.
After another twenty minutes Andrew got Neil pinned to the carpet, using the pillow to hold him down by his chest.
“Yield.”
“Death first.”
“That could be arranged.” He was breathing heavily and his face was blank as ever, but Neil could see by the easy set to his shoulders and the casual hold he had on the pillow that he was enjoying himself.
“Yes or no?”
“To killing you? Always yes.” He leaned down and kissed Neil, reaching up with one hand and closing the blinds, blocking the others view from what he intended to do to Neil next.

Send me a ship and a prompt!

petalloso:

based on a
conversation i had with @neiljostm about glasses!neil ty kyle for bestowing this blessing upon us 

Neil was
good at hiding things, incredibly so, a product of a chaotic childhood largely
spent doing just that. But Andrew was good at spotting the hidden, especially
when it came to Neil, which is why he is the first to notice Neil’s squinted
eyes and scrunched up nose when he tries to read a banner in the bleachers, and
why he is the first to notice Neil’s reaction time slowing when a ball comes
flying towards him, promptly hitting him in the face.

“I’m fine,”
Neil says, causing a collective groan from his team as he rubs his bruised
forehead. Andrew says nothing, only checks Neil’s forehead with a press of his
fingers, but he takes a mental note of it and does not let the slip up slide
away as nothing, spending the next few days observing all the little tells and
signs that Neil, or at least his vision, was most definitely not fine, and worsening.

Only when
Neil takes three balls to the head at Monday practice does he grudgingly admit
that he might, perhaps, (only a little though, Andrew, it’s not really that
bad), need glasses.

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