#andreil rivalry

“Neil.”

This was an argu-- no, a debate -- that had been long-running. And neither of them were backing down. Neil could see the smirk on Andrew’s lips, so he knew that Andrew wasn’t at the stage where he stabbed-first-asked-questions-never. 

“We should flip for it,” Neil suggest. He’d never seen Andrew’s face scrunch in such disgust. 

“Neil. I will not be called Andrew Josten. It sounds so hideous it should be a crime.” 

Neil pouted, hand on his hip, from across the living room. Neil couldn’t take Andrew seriously when he was holding Sir like a cherished baby, simultaneously putting off the air that he didn’t care.. Neil saw the way his fingers carded through Sir’s fur. He saw, okay? That man loved his cat. 

“Andrew, I think you’re being a little dramatic.” 

“And you’re being totally moronic,” Andrew returned immediately.

Neil glared at him once more, “mature. we’re flipping for it.” rummaging in his pockets, he found a coin. “Heads, you take Josten. Tails I take Minyard.” 

Andrew glared but otherwise didn’t object. 

Nail flipped the coin, smirk fully in place. He didn’t really care either way. He could always hyphenate. That would be another battle later on. 

The coin was smoothly tossed, caught in his hand, and flipped onto the back of his other hand. 

Neil looked, and pursed his lips, looked back at a smirking Andrew. 

“What’ll it be, junkie.” 

Neil looked Andrew straight in the eye, “Tails.” 

“Hm, guess tossing a coin was a good idea. Didn’t know you could have one of those,” Andrew brushed past him into the kitchen. 

“Sir was my idea” 

... and I always think that the first time would be on a roof. 

They were smoking on the roof. Neil knew that when all the other foxes that he had in his first year were gone, as was Andrew, he would be able to look back at these moments, perhaps on his own on the roof, and return to these moments with Andrew when everything was calm. When he had a cigarette burning in his hand, being wasted, Andrew always griped, and Andrew was there. Despite the august weather, it was still nice to feel the heat of Andrew next to him, to feel his presence and know, trust, that he was there, without needing to see. 

Neil closed his eyes and focussed on the sounds beyond, which whittled down to the sound of Andrew’s cigarette being flicked off into the car park. The nearly-dead cigarette was taken from his hand and replaced with Andrew’s warm, rough--but soft-- hand. Squinting his eyes against the sun, Neil’s eyes met Andrew’s, then following the movement of the cigarette to Andrew’s lips. 

Andrew paused, the cigarette barely a millimetre away, “stop thinking so fucking loud, Josten.” 

So the whole team knows

Andrew wants all the drama to be over

It’s not like they flew to mars

Anyway

Neil Josten is happy,

Andrew can tell when they wake up in the morning to cat claws at their bedroom door,

When Neil comes back from his run, smiling and flush-faced

When he’s playing stickball at practice and Andrew denies him goals.

And Andrew.. is not unhappy.

When the season kicks up again, life is filled with games and press and training and Neil loves it.

He loves it more than the first year because Andrew’s there and not 6 hours away, and they’re not hardly seeing each other.

It’s weeks into the season, months, and the press still ask:

Josten, what’s it like playing with your rival? Any arguments on the court?

Josten, care to talk about what it’s like playing with Minyard again?

Josten loves these questions,

He can just pull the “””scary hot””” smile as Nicky calls it, and says

“I think you’ll find it’s going well, as you can see in the games” (... and from what’s going on in the bedroom, his brain supplies helpfully unhelpfully.)

ANYWAY. Josten is a happy bunny fox

Until.

Until this bitchass reporter

Yep, that same one

Yup the one that digs into peoples pasts and is a total bitchass

You know the type

This is the type Neil can have a freaking field day with and insult until he dies.

Anyway.

This reporter asks, “Neil,” (first sign of douche-bag-erry) “has their been any violence between you and Minyard considering your violent pasts?”

And Neil just

F r e e z e s

Then he leans forward to his mic (you know the ones) and makes a show of pressing down the on button.

“What.”

“I said—“ the reporter starts.

Josten leans forward more and interrupts:

“Yeah yeah I heard what you said.” Neil is shaking. “What I mean is: what the fuck do you think you possess that gives you the right to even think that. What I mean is: what the fuck are you doing as a reporter because clearly you’ve been subject to the mass delusion that you’d be good at this job when frankly, my cat could do a better job, and be more polite, and he’s a miserable bastard. What I mean is: what on Earth makes you think that Andrew and I would be violent towards eachother? This is exy. We’re on the same team. And what the fuck do our pasts have to do with that? Nothing. Now, I suggest that you consider your career options and change because you’re really doing a shit job.”

Cameras are flashing

People are staring

In amazement

Neil just walks off

Like the drama queen™️ he is.

Andrew’s in the changing room, staring at the tv that’s showing the interview live, when Neil walks in.

Andrew immediately turns. He bites down his snarky responses when he sees that Neil is still shaking.

His hand goes to the back of Neil’s neck, “breathe, Josten. I don’t care what they think of me, us. It doesn’t matter.”

“I care, they can’t just—“

“I know,” Andrew says, his eyes burning into Neil’s, “breathe.”

Half the team are there and the rest are still dealing with the fall out,

But the don’t care.

They just stand there, forehead to forehead, Neil with a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew’s culling Neil’s jaw and neck,

And they’re going to be ok

And Andrew is plotting that journalists murder