Archive of Our Own ^beta

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It starts the second week of Neil’s senior year. He’s at the grocery store, and he sees Andrew’s favorite kind of jelly beans on sale, and he doesn’t think twice before he’s putting a few bags in his basket. 

It’s not until Neil is on his way back to Fox Tower that he remembers that Andrew isn’t there to eat them. Neil briefly considers giving them to one of the sophomore girls on the team that always brings jelly bean vodka to parties, but he discards that idea. He bought the jelly beans for Andrew, so he’s going to give them to Andrew. 

The postage for the box ends up costing him more than the jelly beans themselves did, but that’s fine. Anyways, there’s a certain sense of satisfaction garnered from using blood money on something as innocuous as sending his boyfriend candy. 

Neil hands the box across the counter to the worker at USPS, and he’s practically forgotten about it by the time he gets out of evening practice. 

He’s reminded a few days later when his phone pings with a message from Andrew; Neil opens the text to see a picture of his box staring back at him, his messy handwriting visible on the address label. 

Andrew has only sent the picture, but the question after it is implied. 

A minute later, he gets an answer.

Neil rolls his eyes, but smiles.

Andrew’s response takes a while to come, but when it does it reads only one thing.

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Neil doesn’t think anything of it when he gets an email from the residential service desk a few weeks later about a package—he figures it’s probably the protein powder Kevin said he would be sending as part of his newest crusade to get Neil to bulk up. 

When he goes to pick up the package, however, he is given a box too small to hold any such thing. He examines the label and is greeted by the sight of Andrew’s slanted scrawl. 

The sight brings a grin to Neil’s face, and he eagerly makes his way back to his room so that he can open it. Cutting open the tape reveals… a pair of socks? And then Neil realizes that they say Seattle on them—Seattle, where Andrew had played an away game last week. 

He puts the socks on and sends a picture to Andrew.

Neil can at least concede that the socks are, indeed, very warm—but he still prefers Andrew's body heat instead. 

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At a Friday night home game a little while later, Neil sees that they’re giving out free t-shirts to the crowd. He manages to snag one during half-time just before they run out, and the next day he goes to drop it off in the mail. 

Neil doesn’t get any text from Andrew confirming that he got it, but Neil figures it was probably delivered just fine. After all, Andrew isn’t exactly the most verbose of individuals. He tells himself that he’ll ask next week when he visits for the long weekend, and he lets it slip from his mind. 

And it doesn’t come soon enough, but eventually Neil does make it home to Andrew. In the midst of the general relief and happiness Neil feels at that fact, however, he completely forgets to ask Andrew if he ever got Neil’s latest package. 

He does get an answer, however, when he goes to do the laundry so that he can pack his carry-on for the flight back to South Carolina. Neil has just started to pile clothes into the washing machine when a flash of orange catches his attention. He pulls on it, and there the shirt is—black, with an orange outline of a fox and exy racquet on the front and PALMETTO stamped across the back. 

The thought of Andrew using the shirt, even if it's just for sleep or working out, brings a smile to Neil’s face. He hopes Andrew thinks of him when he wears it. 

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Every time Neil enters Fox Tower, he has to pass the row of mailboxes to get to the stairs. It’s become a habit for him to look at the one with his name on it as he passes by—not because he’s truly expecting to have any mail, but rather because it’s another reminder that he’s a real person now.  Neil Josten is real. He’s able to put down ties, stay in one place, and he doesn’t have to run anymore. That remains a novel feeling that he still savors when he can. 

Neil’s on his way upstairs after getting back from class when he goes to give his box a tap only to realize that there’s actually something in it for once. He takes a moment to twist the little dials above the box to the assigned combination—the mechanisms are old and definitely worse for wear, so it takes a little force to get the damned thing to open—and then he’s holding a postcard in his hands. 

He pulled it out image side down, so he’s greeted with Andrew’s name on the return address and a conspicuously blank space where the message is meant to be. 

He flips the postcard over, and can’t help but let out a snort. The picture is of the duck statues in Boston’s Public Garden, and Andrew has written in sharpie over each of the ducks. The mother duck has Neil’s jersey number on it, and each of the proceeding ducklings is marked with the number of one of the younger foxes. 

Neil pulls out his phone and pulls up the text window with Andrew's name on it.

A minute passes, and another text comes through.

Neil laughs, and he carefully pins the postcard to the front of his and Robin's fridge as soon as he gets upstairs.

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Neil has made the decision that he’s not going to dress up for Halloween this year. Neither Nicky nor Matt are here to plead with him about how fun it would be to get a costume, and neither Andrew nor Allison are here to strong-arm him into going shopping for one.

He’s still going to go to the team party in the basement of Fox Tower—he knows that as captain, it’s important for him to make himself visible and involved with the team even outside of practice—but he’s thinking that he’ll just dig his spare jersey out of his laundry bin and claim that he’s a student athlete if anyone asks. 

Then, of course, he gets the notification that there’s a package waiting for him. 

When he opens the box, the first thing he sees is a piece of paper folded around something. When he unfolds it, Neil is greeted by the sight of a set of fake teeth with exaggeratedly long canines. A single line of Andrew’s script on the paper reads, “For your neck fetish.” 

Neil texts Andrew a picture of him baring his new fangs. 

A moment, and then another text comes through.

And it’s true; Andrew has an amazing ability to pick out clothes for Neil and have them fit perfectly. (Or at least, fit perfectly in Andrew’s eyes. Neil still thinks that they’re a little too tight, but everyone always tells him that that’s just because he grew up wearing clothes meant for someone two sizes bigger than he is.)

That makes Neil’s cheeks heat and his pulse quicken.

Neil can just imagine Andrew’s put-upon sigh. 

Neil proceeds to do just that.

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Neil agonizes a little bit over what to do for Andrew for his birthday. Ideally he’d like to go up and see him, but Andrew’s birthday is in the middle of the week and Neil can’t afford to take the time off. Failing that, Neil wants to give Andrew special—something that hits the perfect blend between sentiment and practicality, something that’ll show Andrew how much he means to Neil even though Neil can’t put his feelings into words that’ll do them justice. (And even if he could name them, he has a feeling that such a blatant verbal expression would be a little overwhelming for the both of them.)

Neil can recognize that he’s definitely overthinking this, and that Andrew probably has such low standards for birthdays, like Neil himself, that he isn’t expecting anything. That only makes Neil want to find the perfect gift even more.

After weeks of searching, Neil thinks that he’s maybe found something. The idea comes to him one day when he’s doodling instead of taking notes in lecture, and it’s easy enough to recruit the help of one of the new freshmen—a graphic design major—to make it possible.

Neil has the package delivered to himself instead of Andrew so that he can make sure it’s right. He opens the box, then the little box inside that one, and then he’s holding the customized Zippo in his palm.

It’s heavy—certainly nicer than the gas station lighters that Andrew buys and similarly discards with little care.

Neil traces a finger over the engraved AJM on the top half of the lighter, then the design that he drew where it spans the bottom half.

It’s simple: a sun rising over the horizon line of a skull. Sunrise, death. Truths. He thought that writing his own middle name would be a little heavy-handed, even for his standards, but he hope that it still conveys his message.

He tests the lighting mechanism, and, satisfied, tucks it back in the original box. From there, it’s simple enough to drive to the post office and stand in line to ship it out.

The morning of November 4th, Neil sends off a “happy birthday” text as he leaves for his morning jog. He gets a response while he’s in his Complex Algebra class. Since the professor is notoriously terrible at noticing when students are on their phones, Neil figures he can chance it and respond.

Neil tells himself that he shouldn’t be worried, but he can’t help the nervous butterflies in his stomach.

Neil smiles.

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Though Neil has the week of Thanksgiving off, Andrew is not so lucky. Every day, Neil drops Andrew off at his mandatory practices and picks him up after so that he can use the car. 

It’s during that time that Neil goes grocery shopping. Feeding two athletes—even an athlete with admittedly abysmal eating habits like Andrew—is not an easy task, and it feels like the fridge has a bad habit of miraculously emptying overnight. 

The grocery store’s parking lot is packed today, which means that Neil ends up having to park a few shops down from Stop and Shop. He’s idly looking at the storefronts as he passes them by when one catches his eye. He thinks it over only for a moment before entering. 

When Neil makes it back to Andrew’s apartment with the groceries, he stops at the doorman’s desk. It takes a little explaining, but soon he’s passing a box over with an assurance that the doorman will pass it on to Andrew when he gets back from dropping Neil at the airport in a few days. 

Sure enough, Neil has just made it through airport security—which, given that it’s the weekend after Thanksgiving and the entire world is trying to make it back in time for Monday, is an absolute zoo—when he gets a text from Andrew. 

When he receives no response, Neil sends off another text.

For all of Andrew’s threats, the cacti are healthy when Neil does make it back to his apartment a month later. When Andrew notices him staring at them one day, he comments that “They’re almost as hard to kill as you are.”

Neil turns towards him and reaches out, and Andrew steps closer into the circle of his arms. “What can I say?” Neil says into Andrew’s ear. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

Andrew’s arms wrap themselves around Neil’s back, and Neil feels the puff of Andrew’s exhaled breath against his neck. “Apparently,” he responds. 

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One night over winter break, when Neil and Andrew are feeling particularly lazy and can’t be assed to cook anything or venture out in the snow to bring something back to the apartment, they order pizza. 

After a debate over where to order from, Andrew recites off the number for a local place so that Neil can call their order in—half pineapple, for Andrew, with pepperoni and peppers on the other half for Neil. 

When the person on the other end asks if they want stuffed crust, Andrew gives a decisive nod at Neil. After relaying Andrew’s yes, Neil takes the opportunity to ask what they have for dessert. 

He ignores the quirk of Andrew’s eyebrow—like the man doesn't know that Neil is asking for him, honestly—and tells the cashier to add a piece of tiramisu to their order. He hangs up and leans across the couch to plop his head in Andrew’s lap and smile up at him. Andrew rolls his eyes but nonetheless brings a hand up to run it through Neil’s hair for a moment. 

They have about 45 minutes until their delivery should arrive, so they settle back to keep watching the Chopped reruns playing on the Food Network. Neil loves watching Andrew’s face when the basket ingredients are revealed; he loves the subtle disgust that shows in the curve of Andrew’s lip and the scrunch of his nose at some of the more outlandish ingredients. 

By the time the phone call comes from Andrew’s doorman that the pizza guy is there, however, Andrew has succumbed to the winter chill and wrapped himself in one of the blankets from the back of the couch. 

The blond makes to get up, but he looks like a comfy little blanket burrito and Neil can’t stand to see him move. Neil realizes once again how soft Andrew makes him, how soft he can afford to be when around him. He’s happy to get to his feet and troop towards the door, to slip on the pair of crocs that Andrew hates and slide one of Andrew’s hoodies over his head to cover the bare, scarred skin of arms. 

He looks around the little entrance table for his wallet only to remember that he left it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. With a sigh, he calls out to Andrew that he’s stealing his instead before he unlocks the door. 

The elevator trip downstairs is quick, and then Neil is stepping into the chilly air of the lobby. The pizza guy has placed their food on the doorman’s desk while he waits, and Neil can hear the two of them chatting about the weather as he approaches. 

Neil gives both men a “Hello” and looks down at Andrew’s wallet to slip out the cash to pay. Instead of money, however, the first thing that Neil sees upon opening the billfold of Andrew’s wallet is a half used sheet of stamps, carefully folded so that none of the stickers are creased by the action. 

Neil instantly recognizes the design. After all, they’re the same little stamps that have been on all of the postcards that Andrew has sent him over the last few months. He runs a finger over them, feeling the grin that wants to stretch his lips at the thought that Andrew has been carrying them with him this entire time—carrying them to and from practice, to and from the grocery store, to and from the plane rides and bus trips to the away games where he’s purposefully sought out things to send back to Neil.

He’s been carrying another little reminder of Neil in his back pocket, another little commitment to their “this” and their efforts to stay in touch despite the distance between them. 

Neil definitely overtips the delivery guy as he rushes to pay, but who can blame him? He doesn’t have time to wait around for change when he has Andrew upstairs and a sudden and desperate need to kiss him.

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Eventually, winter break ends and Neil has to head back to Palmetto. 

“Halfway there,” he says into Andrew’s shoulder as they hug over the center console before Neil gets out of the car. Only a few more months until graduation, and then—hopefully—they’ll have the whole summer to themselves. Neil still doesn’t know what will come after that or where he’ll end up signing, but he fuels himself with the thought of those months he’ll have together with Andrew. 

“Halfway there,” Andrew repeats, his voice even. Neil feels some of the tension drain from his shoulders, reassured by Andrew and how steadfast he is, how he’s always Neil’s port in a storm. 

Eventually, Neil forces himself to untangle himself from Andrew and get out of the car. It feels more difficult than it did just a few short months ago at Thanksgiving. 

He’s exhausted by the time his flight lands and he gets back to Palmetto a few hours later, and though his little dormitory mattress is far too small and doesn’t smell like Andrew at all, he crashes almost immediately. It’s when he wakes up in the morning that he forces himself to unpack his luggage—he knows that if he doesn’t do it then, he’ll be living out of it just like he used to live out of his duffle bag before he joined the Foxes. 

(He knows enough now, through hard attempts at growing and healing and more than one lecture from his family, to know that that’s probably not the healthiest mentality to live with.)

He’s tossing his little matched bundles of socks from his suitcase to a drawer when he feels something unusual tucked inside one. With a furrowed brow, he unfolds the socks. 

He immediately cracks a smile, his mood boosted tenfold. This is clearly Andrew’s doing—in Neil’s hands is a little Lego-like replication of his boyfriend all decked out in his home kit goalie gear, an unimpressed expression on his tiny face. 

Neil fiddles with the toy, waving Andrew’s arm with his exy racquet up and down and checking the range of motion. 

He grabs his phone from where it’s tangled up in his sheets just to text Andrew. 

Andrew doesn’t dignify Neil’s last text with a response, but that’s alright. Neil doesn’t miss Andrew quite as badly knowing he’ll be able to carry around a little piece of Andrew with him.