Work Text:
*
Dear Diary (ok yeah I'm never writing that phrase again)
Andrew got me this.
Bc I don't want to go to therapy.
He says I can like...record hobbies or some shit?
And it will "be relaxing."
He's an idiot
But like.
A thoughtful idiot
Neil stared at the rest of the blank page and, when nothing else came to mind, closed the journal. The cover, glossy white with an orange fox print, stared back at him.
"I'm going for a climb," Andrew announced from the other room, almost like he could sense Neil’s ambivalence. "Want to come with?"
Neil shoved the journal across his desk. He’d worry about unfucking his brain later. For now, rock climbing with Andrew seemed like the right answer.
The gym down the road had an entire rocking climbing section, complete with three too-tall walls and a few outcroppings to practice on. Andrew always chose the tallest one.
The first few times they went, one of the employees had shown Neil how to belay for Andrew.
“Remember, never take your eyes off of the climber,” the employee had said.
No problem. Andrew was incredible to watch when he climbed, the way the muscles of his arms and legs moved smoothly, propelling him up to the top of the wall as if he could turn off his fear of heights.
Neil knew he couldn't; the way Andrew's heart pounded when he was back on the ground wasn't just from exertion. But he also wore a soft, easy smile, something he'd worked for years to earn, and Neil couldn't think of anything he'd rather see.
*
Another blank page stared up at Neil. He tapped the pen against the edge of the journal. His favorite bright orange fox clock ticked on the wall, louder than it had any right to be.
Neil closed the journal and tilted his chair back, eyes thoughtful on the ceiling.
*
"How about knitting?" Andrew asked, a few days later. "It keeps your hands busy."
Neil shook his head. "You make it look easy."
Andrew shrugged without losing track of his stitches. His current project was a pair of black fingerless gloves. He'd only gotten through the bottom half of the first one, but the gray yarn "fuck" was already unmistakable. The other glove would have "you". Neil thought they would be perfect when they were done.
The way Andrew's fingers were constantly moving was mesmerizing. His needles clicked in an ocean wave rhythm as he looped yarn together, stitch after stitch until a new row was completed.
Neil watched, committing the veins in Andrew's hands to memory. They criss-crossed over the back of his hands, shifting with every movement. Black nail polish decorated all of his fingers, and his thumbs rested near the tip of his needles, sturdy and strong.
It made Neil think about all of the times Andrew's thumbs had been on his face, the times that Andrew had traced his jaw, had slipped a thumb between his lips, had...
Andrew said something, and Neil almost forgot to respond.
"I think I'm losing you there, Neil," Andrew said with something like gentle, teasing laughter in his voice.
"I'm right here," Neil protested, but his cheeks were burning. "I'm just watching you. It's incredible. You're incredible."
"They're just gloves. You could do this if you wanted to."
"I think I'll just keep watching you for now, if that's ok," Neil said.
The heat in his cheeks began to fade. Andrew worked his way through the middle stitches of "fuck", switching between colors with a impressive speed. There were probably little old ladies who knit faster, of course, but they weren't Andrew. And they didn’t have Andrew's nice hands.
"Do you want me to do something else with my hands?" Andrew asked a few minutes later with a meaningful glance at Neil’s crotch.
Neil nodded his yes, very eagerly.
*
Andrew’s hands are incredible. I don’t know if he knows how much I look at them. He might suspect.
He took up knitting last year. Said it passed the time.
It’s funny how easy I thought us being apart for a year would be. It wasn’t. Glad we’re on the same team now. Don’t know how I would have handled two years apart.
Still not sure what to write about.
Andrew is everything to me. I think I might...
Neil closed his journal. He wasn’t sure he could finish that sentence, not yet.
*
The thump of a book on the coffee table shook Neil out of his Exy-induced daze. He turned away from the USC vs. PSU match to see Andrew tapping the cover of a small, dense book.
“Succulents?” Neil asked. The glossy cover had several little colorful plants growing in various decorated pots.
“I’ve been told they’re ‘calming and fun’,” Andrew said.
“Sounds like Nicky.”
“It was.”
“I’ll… look into it.”
The crowd on the TV went wild, and Neil looked to see Robin scoring a point against USC. He smiled, a fierce pride in his chest. He looked up at Andrew. “She’s going to be Court with us some day.”
“You sound like Kevin,” Andrew said, mildly and fondly. “When you’re done with that, let’s go to the garden center.”
*
Buying succulents with Andrew on a Saturday afternoon hadn't been on Neil's radar, but he had to admit the colorful plants were pleasant to look at. He trailed behind Andrew to stare at a dark green one. It was softly rounded in little clusters of circles. Somewhere between that one and the one that looked kind of like a flower made out of waxy green leaves, Neil had to stop.
Out of all of the futures he’d imagined for himself (very few), somehow he’d ended up in one where he got to follow the man he cared for in a garden center looking for succulents for the house they owned together.
“You ok?” Andrew’s voice was soft, pitched low enough that no one else could hear.
“Yeah,” Neil said. Because he was; he didn’t have to worry about his dad popping up from behind the azaleas, and he didn’t have to worry about Riko hiding behind the citrus trees. All that mattered was Andrew, standing in front of the succulents. There wasn’t a good way to explain all of that to Andrew, though, so Neil hoped his smile conveyed enough.
Andrew waited, patiently.
A quick glance around showed that no one else was browsing near them, and Neil stole the moment to lean in. “I want to kiss you,” he said.
Andrew closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his lips warm and soft and real. His body against Neil's, solid. Unyielding. Safe.
Neil drew a shuddering breath and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. "Maybe we can get this one?" he asked, picking up the little plastic container.
Andrew took the tiny plant and looked it over. His fingers covered the entirety of the plastic pot. It seemed smaller in his large hand. Smaller, but safer.
*
Who would have thought I'd be here today.
Not me.
But Andrew saw me. Scared to stay. Ready to run. Scared to die alone. And he told me to stay.
Did he wrestle the grim reaper for my soul? I know Andrew would win that fight.
*
Andrew's knitting needles clicked softly together, and sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting Neil's small but robust succulent garden covering most of the coffee table. Neil poked the soil, trying to assess the moisture level before shrugging and adding just a few more drops of water.
The finished "fuck" glove lay next to the smallest succulent. The "you" was almost done, too. Neil put away his small watering can and plopped down on the couch, sitting on the other end so that he could prop his feet up on Andrew's legs.
Andrew kept knitting, and Neil watched, mesmerized by his hands. His fingers were steady on the needles, so subtle in their movements and yet so precise.
Neil had a sudden flash of an image. The thought of Andrew making a fist and coldcocking the grim reaper filled his thoughts and he couldn't help but laugh. Andrew tilted his head toward Neil in a question without missing a stitch.
"You're so damn talented," Neil said, propping his chin in his hand and trying to follow the lines of Andrew’s fingers.
“So you’re laughing because I’m talented?”
When he put it that way, it seemed even funnier.
“Ok, so you’re so strong, right?” Neil said once he managed to stop laughing.
Andrew didn’t pause his knitting, but the lightest pink of a blush dusted his face.
“And you win every fight that you start.”
“I don’t start fights,” Andrew corrected. “I tie up loose ends.”
Neil hummed his agreement. Andrew had finished the letters in his glove, the “you” fully fleshed out. “You win every fight you’re in,” he amended.
“Yes. Though I’ve noticed you’ve pulled me into significantly fewer fights these past few months,” Andrew said, pulling more yarn out of his little black cat yarn bowl.
Neil considered Andrew’s words. “Guess I’m calming down in my old age,” he said. “And speaking of old age, did you fight the grim reaper for me?”
“What.” Andrew’s deadpan question was highlighted with a hint of a bemused smile and him putting his needles down.
“Because I was supposed to be dead by now?” Neil offered. Suddenly, it didn’t seem as funny as when he’d just been thinking it.
Andrew’s smile faded into something more contemplative. He set down the near-finished glove on the coffee table and lifted Neil’s legs from his lap so that he could scoot closer to Neil. He settled Neil’s legs back on his lap and looked deep into Neil’s eyes, so intently that for a wild moment, Neil wondered if Andrew would laugh and announce that he was the grim reaper.
“There is no world where you should be dead by now,” Andrew said. Quietly. Fiercely.
The protective growl in Andrew’s voice warmed Neil like the sun rising on an early morning run. It spread across his body, a heat in his chest and arms and legs, sudden and almost overwhelming in its intensity. Neil’s thighs were already pressed against Andrew’s, but just like that, it wasn’t enough.
He needed, wanted, more of Andrew, of whatever Andrew would give him.
Andrew must have noticed the look in his eyes, must have seen how Neil’s lips were parting in a soft breath, must have noticed the impact his voice had on him. He put his hand up to Neil’s face, dragging his thumb across Neil’s lips.
Neil closed his eyes, opening his mouth a little more as the heat between them rose. Andrew shifted, bringing his legs up on the couch between Neil’s, his knees slotting close to the seam of Neil’s pants.
When Neil opened his eyes, Andrew was inches away from him, his eyes dark with desire and his cheeks a flush of pink that only Neil got to see.
Before Andrew could ask, Neil nodded.
"Yes, Andrew," he said, his voice low from excitement and from how much he needed Andrew closer to him. He tried to find a way to convey the depth of his desire. "One hundred and three percent yes."
Andrew leaned in, his lips soft and warm, and kissed him. Neil floated in the sensations, the way Andrew wrapped a gentle, firm hand around his waist, the way his other fingers spread across Neil's jaw, warm fingertips grazing his skin and leaving a tingling path in their wake. Andrew's legs between Neil's were a solid foundation for Neil's thighs to rest against.
They kissed, and Andrew's tongue eased its way into Neil's mouth, and Andrew tasted like sunshine and barely sweet chocolate and home . Neil’s body was so warm and soft in Andrew’s arms that he had to blink back a sudden rise of moisture in his eyes. He'd never felt so safe, so secure, or so wanted as he did in that moment, and it was like Andrew was the sun above him, his kisses rays of light and his hands a heated presence on Neil's skin.
Andrew ran his hands down Neil's arms, lingering on his wrists and palms and fingers before cupping Neil's face and kissing him again and again. Neil was nearly boneless under Andrew's powerful warmth. His heart raced joyfully in his chest. Andrew kissed him on his lips, on his jaw, on his neck.
Neil moaned softly, unable to catch his breath when Andrew kissed the spot of skin where his bounding pulse gave away how much he enjoyed every move Andrew made. Andrew sucked at the same spot and Neil curled around him, his body moving on its own accord, trying to close any space between them.
Andrew's breath was a hot gasp against Neil's neck, and Neil wanted to hear it again. He'd kept his hands to himself and now he carefully, slowly, brought them up near Andrew's shoulders. Andrew paused before nodding and grabbing Neil's hands. He directed one hand to his waist and one to his chest and Neil slid his fingers under Andrew's shirt, savoring the sensation of Andrew's skin.
The couch creaked when Andrew leaned forward, his body pressing against Neil's. It was a solid, welcome weight, the heavy presence that Neil yearned for and Andrew provided like it was his only purpose on earth. Neil pulled Andrew even closer and they kissed, rutting against each other like teenagers who couldn't bother to waste time taking off their clothes.
Neil was vaguely aware that he was hard, vaguely aware that when Andrew's hips rocked against his, he was groaning with need. All he could focus on was Andrew's tongue in his mouth again, warm and wet and unyielding in the best way. Andrew reached down and tugged at Neil's waistband, trying to push the offending fabric out of the way.
Somehow, Neil managed to lift his hips enough for Andrew to ease the shorts down and out of the way. He shimmied out of his dark jeans, kicking them off out of sight past the couch cushions. When Andrew pressed back against him, Neil full on gasped. Andrew's naked thighs on his was all he needed to lose himself again in the roaring warmth of their closeness. Andrew rutted against him, whispering kisses against his cheek and running heated hands down sweat-slicked skin.
They could have done just that forever and Neil would have been content. But then Andrew was ghosting lube covered fingers against Neil's hole and pausing, waiting for Neil to nod a stuttered yes before pressing in.
Neil buried his head in the crook of Andrew's neck and whined against his throat, unable to help the noises that escaped his mouth. Andrew curved his fingers gently and teased him with a slow slide of movement and Neil whimpered. He pressed back against Andrew's hand to encourage Andrew to move faster, spreading his legs and trying to find footing on couch cushions.
Andrew didn't move faster. He covered Neil in kisses, kisses to the top of his hair and to the bit of his forehead not pressed into Andrew's neck. Neil kissed wherever his mouth touched Andrew's skin and he panted against the wet spots he left behind whenever Andrew slid his fingers deeper inside him.
They wove their bodies together, a tangle of arms and legs wrapped with an insistent warmth. Neil lost track of time as Andrew slowly worked him apart. He whined and moaned and sighed and gasped. Every time he thought he couldn’t possibly last another moment, Andrew stopped his delightful torture and tilted Neil’s head up so he could press kisses on Neil’s forehead and nose and lips.
Neil burned with desire. He clung to Andrew’s back and shifted his hips closer and Andrew cradled his face and smirked so softly with the promise to wreck him that Neil shuddered.
Andrew withdrew his fingers so slowly Neil almost didn't miss their absence, but when Andrew hooked his hands under Neil's shoulders and lifted him into his lap in one smooth motion, his world narrowed down to Andrew's solid thighs and thick cock beneath him.
Andrew wrapped sturdy fingers around Neil's hips and lifted him up again. He kept him elevated with ease, teasing him with just the very tip of his cock pressed against his hole. Neil wiggled in his grasp, but Andrew's strong arms held him so very still.
Neil tucked his head against Andrew's face and breathed in his scent. "Want you," he breathed out, and just like that, Andrew was lowering Neil onto his waiting erection, holding him so steady that Neil might burst into flames, might be consumed by the perfection of Andrew's heat.
The couch cushion shifted under them as Neil sank down until Andrew was deep inside him. Andrew wrapped his arms around Neil's waist and their hearts pounded together as they kissed again and again while Neil adjusted to Andrew's presence inside him, all at once large and comforting. Neil didn't want the moment to end.
Andrew seemed to notice, and he brushed kisses against Neil's neck, working over the sensitive skin until Neil was writhing in his lap, curling around Andrew's shoulders and clinging to the back of the couch. Andrew rolled his hips underneath Neil and took Neil's cock in his hand at the same time. Neil sighed his pleasure against Andrew's hair.
Neither of them moved faster, content to please each other in a slow dance, a rhythm of coming together like the ceaseless waves of the ocean. Andrew was the foundation and Neil the space between the cracks, and together, they were more than the sum of their traumas. Neil arched his hips, taking Andrew in deeper and rocking on his lap as if he'd never felt this good in his life. He might not have. He couldn't remember.
All he could think about was the building heat in his groin, coming closer and closer to a boiling point with every stroke of Andrew's talented fingers around his aching, needy cock. Andrew nipped at his neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He half lifted Neil up with his one hand still on his hip, and Neil cried out when he came, striping Andrew's shirt with endless pulses of cum.
A few moments later, and Andrew's orgasm was a pleasant, almost too warm heat deep inside Neil. Neil leaned against Andrew, eyes closed, heedless of the mess he made of their shirts. Andrew wrapped his hands around Neil's waist, and they stayed together, unmoving, for several glorious minutes, happy to just exist.
When Neil opened his eyes, he found Andrew staring at him with an intensity that made his cheeks burn. Neil stared, overwhelmed with a sudden burst of emotion that bloomed in his body, right in the core of his being. He looked carefully at Andrew, taking in every curl of blonde hair, every curve of dark eyelashes and speck of gold in hazel eyes. He never wanted to forget how Andrew looked in that moment.
"I love you too," Andrew said, so quiet Neil thought he might have imagined it.
Neil gave half a protest, his cheeks burning at the way Andrew's words pierced right through his chest and wrapped him in another layer of pleasant heat. "I didn't-"
"But you thought it," Andrew said. "Didn't you?"
Neil nodded, unable to say the words out loud without them catching in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was enough. The way Andrew held him told him it was enough.
*
I love Andrew Minyard. And someday soon, I’ll say it out loud.
*