Chapter Text
Neil and Andrew get lucky with coming out. They’re not the first gay or bisexual players in the professional Exy leagues by a long shot, what with Sara Alvarez and Laila Dermott’s post-championship-win kiss and Jean and Jeremy’s more muted photographs of them curled together on a beach in Marseille. However, Neil does get some shit because Andrew is, well, he’s Andrew Minyard, the five-foot-tall force of nature with a penchant for stony silences and pulling knives on teammates. Neil doesn’t tolerate any reporter’s bullshit questions that hover around implying that Andrew is an unworthy partner, but it gets tiring.
Their jabs at each other on Twitter, though? Those are something Neil will never get bored of. Andrew infrequently sics his followers on Neil, oftentimes reminding him to grab milk and cat food while he’s at the store or using them to bully Neil into staying home and resting on days after particularly grueling games (Andrew also plies Neil with soft kisses and breakfast in bed, but Twitter doesn’t need to know that).
In response to Andrew’s “bullying,” Neil gets his revenge by way of photographs. It’s not his fault that he’s in a relationship with someone so ridiculously photogenic, and so pictures of Andrew looking positively ethereal while doing everyday things make it onto Neil’s Twitter. Some of his favorites include Andrew bundled up in a scarf and jacket, standing under a streetlight in Grant Park as snowflakes swirl around him. Andrew in an old PSU hoodie, curled up on the couch in a warm shaft of light, blanket loosely slung over his hips, one eye cracked open staring the camera down in a silent challenge to talk shit, I dare you.
When Andrew announces his transfer to the Cyclones in May, right after the season ends, Neil sees more than a few tweets bemoaning the fact that the two of them won’t be tweeting at each other as much since they’re in closer proximity, but there are more fans excited to see the two of them playing together again. A few years ago at the Olympics, they took home gold thanks to a seemingly psychic bond between Andrew and Neil, and they’ve only gotten closer since then.
Near the end of May, Neil’s PR agent Hannah pulls him and Andrew into a meeting. She’s a bubbly thing, too full of RedBull for a meeting at ten in the morning, and Neil would feel bad for subjecting her to dealing with Andrew in the morning if she wasn’t used to playing damage control after Neil let loose on a reporter. Used to Neil’s preference for no bullshit pleasantries (she’d learned her lesson after encouraging Neil to get involved on Twitter), she gets right to the point.
“Next month is pride month and the team wants you two to do some coupley things and post about them online.” As Andrew’s stare darkens and Neil raises an eyebrow, she raises her hands in a placating stance. “I know you aren’t into broadcasting your relationship, so I’ve negotiated to the point where you can go as low-key as you want. Just do something. It’ll look good for the team and sponsorship offers, and it’ll be a good act of solidarity with the LGBT community!”
Andrew crosses his arms. “Are there any things they pitched to you as ideas for what we should do.” Even that statement is a testament to the progress that Andrew’s made over the years. Back at PSU, he would’ve shot down the mere idea before it was fully out of someone’s mouth.
Hannah blanches. Clearly she wasn’t expecting such a lack of resistance on Andrew’s part. “Well, I don’t know how you would feel about doing an Instagram Live Q&A, but they put that out there-”
Neil throws up a hand. “So that’s just a live video where we could be doing whatever and answering questions?”
“Yes, junkie.” Andrew knocks their feet together. “We could just cook dinner and answer some questions.”
Hannah looks absolutely over the moon. “Yeah, that would work great! That format is especially good because you don’t have to answer any questions that you don’t want to, and I know you guys are serious about your privacy. If it gets to be too much, you can just end it. It’s just like an interview, except you get to choose what to answer!”
“So not like an interview at all,” Neil snorts, having been privy to Andrew’s stony silences after reporters got a little too personal.
Hannah giggles at that. “Well, yeah. Management wants you to do two or three things, spread out over June, but if you want to do more, feel free. You could also just post some pictures talking about pride if you’re comfortable with that, but again, no pressure.”
After hashing out a few more details, they drive out of Chicago, no destination in mind. Neil curls sideways in the passenger seat, watching the sun turn Andrew’s hair into a fluffy halo, his features thrown into stark relief. Andrew would admonish him for staring, but their drives have become one of the view times that Andrew allows Neil to look as much as he wants.
Eventually, Neil gets bored tracing patterns onto the back of Andrew’s hand as it rests on the gearshift. He straightens up, cracks his neck, and pokes Andrew in the cheek, getting a side-eyed glare in return. “What changed your mind about doing stuff for pride?”
“It was good PR for you.” Andrew enunciated slowly, his tone for when Neil was being especially stupid.
“Why- oh.” Good publicity for Neil meant that he was likely to receive more sponsorships which directly influenced how much the Moriyamas wanted to kill Neil at any given moment.
“I could do without having to do this, but I’m going to be the one who ends up killing you and I have no intention of letting Ichirou get in my way.” What goes unsaid is the I don’t know what I would do if they killed you, the I would do it all over again to keep you safe. Neil hears it anyway. Almost a decade of proximity will do that to you.
“Thank you.”
“I haven’t done shit yet.” Andrew glares at him. “I’m not going to make it easy for any of the fans, don’t get your hopes up.”
“I never expected anything less.”
They decide to do the live video a week into June. Neil texts to double-check with Hannah and gets a thumbs-up emoji in return, so he tweets the night before.
Neil Josten @njos10
@minyard and i are gonna go live on instagram tomorrow at 6pm cst and answer some questions and make dinner
That morning, they decide on making pizza. It’s easy, they both like it, and it gives Andrew something to do with his day. In the past few years, they’ve both had to learn how to cook for themselves and Andrew took a special liking to anything that involved dough. Neil takes a container of sauce out of the freezer and they spend the day lazing around their apartment. Neil goes on a meandering run, coming back with some groceries, and Andrew spends several hours curled up in a cushy armchair, reading as Sir and King nap on his lap.
At around five-thirty, Andrew gets up and cleans the kitchen. It’s an old habit, keeping the visible parts of his life spotless to give him some privacy, but now it’s something he only does when he’s nervous. As he empties the dish rack, Neil hops up on the counter next to him.
“You don’t have to say anything, you know.” He’s giving Andrew an out, a way to distance himself from an uncomfortable situation. Andrew just gips the handle of the mug he was putting away.
“I am aware,” Andrew grits out, pointedly looking anywhere but Neil.
“Okay.” Neil swings his legs back and forth, then kicks one out to poke at Andrew’s hip. “Hey.” Andrew looks at him. “Yes or no?”
The mug goes into the cabinet with more force than necessary and Andrew moves to stand in between Neil’s legs, which wrap around his waist as Neil leans down to kiss Andrew. His arms loop around the back of Andrew’s neck, holding him close, and Andrew’s hands slide under his shirt, thumbs rubbing circles on his ribs. It’s a cheap shot, to make out with Andrew to distract him from his nerves, but it works and Neil is far from complaining. He has his favorite person in the world pressed flush against him, how could he be unhappy?
Neil is lost in the sensation of Andrew pressing kisses up the column of his throat when the alarm on his phone goes off. Ten minutes to showtime. Neil pulls away, ruffles his hands through Andrew’s hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat presentable, and wills away the need to drag Andrew into the bedroom. He turns off his alarm as Andrew opens the fridge, pulling out the dough, cheese, and toppings.
Neil positions his phone so that he can read what people ask while also being in frame without showing any other part of their apartment than the kitchen. Right before he turns on the stream, Andrew wraps his arms around Neil’s waist and presses a firm kiss right below his ear.
“We are not eating while people watch,” he says. Neil nods.
“How about we end it once we get the pizza in the oven?” Andrew grunts in response. Neil goes to turn on the stream but pauses again. “I’m proud of us. This isn’t something we would’ve done a few years ago.”
Andrew sighs and peels himself away from Neil. “Just start the video, you fucking junkie.”
Neil starts the video. Andrew immediately busies himself with getting the pizza ready, stretching the dough out in a way Neil has never been able to do without tearing it or making an amoeba-shaped pie. Neil grabs a cutting board and starts chopping basil, then looks at the viewers of the video. Close to two thousand. Well, there’s nothing he could say that’s worse than his post-game interviews.
“Okay, this is my first time doing one of these so just ask whatever.” Immediately, questions start pouring in. There are more than a few suggestive questions, along with invasive ones about their lives and things that they legally can’t discuss, so Neil waits until someone asks what they’re making for dinner.
“Andrew’s making pizza.” Immediately, there are follow-up questions. “Oh, Andrew, someone’s asking if pineapple belongs on pizza. Thoughts?”
Andrew looks up, annoyed. It’s an argument they’ve gotten into time and time again. “Just because you like it doesn’t make it a cardinal sin. You don’t have functioning tastebuds.”
“You’re not doing much better yourself. Alright, next question. Hmm. Favorite colors? I like gray. Andrew?”
“Pantone two six eight five C. Dark indigo.”
Neil grins. “Careful, you’re going to ruin your bad-boy reputation, telling the masses that your favorite color isn’t black.” Andrew just flicks his flour-dusted fingers at Neil in response. “Oh, that’s a good one. What was it like living with Kevin in college? Absolute hell. He’s less of a morning person than Andrew and we had practice at six every day.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, grabbing the sauce. “He threw out my ice cream once and I almost killed him, and then he proceeded to do it every two months or so. I don’t miss him.”
One question keeps coming up, so Neil sighs and bites the bullet. “To everyone asking if I’m gay or bi or whatever, I’m not. I only swing for Andrew. Next ques- King, get down. ” She’d jumped up onto the counter, nosing at Neil’s phone, so he scoops her up and holds her upside down, cradling her like a baby, ignoring Andrew’s exasperated sigh at their cat’s antics. “This is King. She’s a menace and is completely comfortable being held like this.” At that, King lets out a rumbling purr, her head lolling about. “Hmm, okay. Andrew, what’s your favorite book?”
Andrew looks up. The only thing he’d ever been moderately open about liking was literature and he retold Neil the plots of stories as a way to ground him after nightmares. “Neil Gaiman. American Gods. It’s written in an engaging way and provides an interesting view into the concept of faith and religion. And it’s a glorified road trip to every shitty tourist spot in America with an actually interesting protagonist.” Neither of them mentions that it’s Andrew’s comfort book, read so many times that the title on the spine is almost illegible and the pages are soft and worn, pored over on bad days where existing gets to be too much.
“It’s a good book, I don’t like reading and I finished it in a few days.” Neil swaps King to one arm to push the basil over to Andrew, looking for a few more questions. “Oh, here’s one. What’s the best ice cream flavor? I don’t like sweet things so I assume this one is for Andrew.”
“Ben and Jerry’s half-baked. Overpriced but worth it. Neil, don’t lie. You like sorbet because you’re a godless heathen.”
“Well you said sorbet doesn’t count as ice cream, and the question was specifically about ice cream. Or is sorbet a valid choice of ice cream now and you’re admitting that you were wrong?” Andrew throws a piece of cheese at him and it lands on King’s belly. “Okay, how about two more. Hmm. Oh. What’s different now that we’re out?” Neil pauses, considering. Everything’s different, nothing’s different. “On a personal level, not much has changed. We’re both private people. In the Exy world, though, Andrew’s been pushing for a more robust nondiscrimination policy, which is probably going to trickle down to collegiate and high school Exy. That’s good, I guess.”
Andrew straightens up from putting the pizza in the oven and snaps his fingers then points to his chest. Sir, the obedient little bastard, jumps up and Andrew catches him, helping him get comfortable perching on one of his shoulders. “I got a degree in criminal justice, I’m going to use my degree. The shit that some contracts have is illegal.”
King paws at Neil’s chest, and he opens his arms to let her down. Andrew leans forward to look at the questions. “Last one. Neil,” he says, perfectly deadpan, eyes bright with amusement that only Neil can see, “what’s it like having me for a boyfriend?”
Neil feels his smile go sharp. “It was great, but we’ve been ex-boyfriends for over two years now.” Andrew sighs. Rolls his eyes. His left cheek dimples with a slight smile, out of view of the camera.
“How many times do I have to tell you. That’s a terrible way of saying that we’re married.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.” Andrew picks up Neil’s phone. “Bye,” he says, and ends the live stream. Neil stops with his reporter-murdering smile and allows himself to be pulled in for a sweet, slow kiss, barely registering the thump Sir makes when he jumps to the floor.
They stand there, kissing softly, reacquainting themselves with each other, letting their walls drop. Andrew’s hands come to play with Neil’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Neil massages at the tension in Andrew’s shoulders until it melts away and Andrew hooks his hands under Neil’s ass and lifts until Neil’s legs wrap tightly around his waist.
The kiss turns dirty from there. Reassuring hands become hungry, and Neil loses track of himself, lost in Andrew Andrew Andrew , pressed against a wall as Andrew sucks hickeys into the base of his throat, tongue laving along the scar on his collarbone until the timer goes off and they break apart.
The pizza is good, but Andrew’s hands on him later, methodically taking him apart, are even better. Neil might just have to talk to Renee about converting to Christianity.
They curl together in bed, sleepy and sated, and Neil grabs his phone, Andrew pressed against his back, littering kisses on the nape of his neck.
Neil Josten @njos10
thx for showin up to the live. might do another next week
If this is how Andrew gets after they show a part of their life to the world, then Neil’s definitely going to do it again.