By the way, this beautiful Fanart of theirs is not mine and the credits are not for me but I warn you that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator of this beautiful masterpiece on Tumblr

A short ficlet that was written for the @litsquadnw creation event.

Fandom: All for the game / The foxhole court Pairing: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten Summary: Occasionally childhood demons are real legitimate hellspawn that take over your body

“Hello there, Nathaniel,” Andrew Minyard says to the demon possessing his husband’s body. Neil’s eyes - Nathaniel’s eyes widen in surprise, and he puts down the sandwich he’s eating.

“Hello Drew,” Nathaniel says softly, “I made hot chocolate?” the demon poses as a question, sliding the mug towards Andrew, who wraps his palms around it.

“Not bad,” Andrew mutters taking a sip. “How’s hell then?” Nathaniel glares at him and lets out a growl.

“I wouldn’t have made a soul deal with you if I realised how much fucking havoc it was going to cause downstairs,” Nathaniel groans. Andrew hums calmly into his drink.

“What has my soul done this time then?” Andrew asks. Nathaniel takes a few savage bites out of his food, grumbling under his breath.

“The bloody thing is running the place which shouldn’t even be possible because other than the fact you sold it, it’s teetering on the side of goodness. If you weren’t a dumbass, you’d be sitting nice and pretty up top for all of eternity.” Nathaniel says. The demon slams his fist down on the kitchen counter. “You don’t fucking deserve any of this.”

“There have only been two times that I’ve gotten what I deserve,” Andrew tells Nathaniel calmly, Nathaniel’s eye - Neil’s eye twitches. “The reasons for both of them are standing in front of me,”

“I -” Nathaniel begins, and then he abruptly closes his mouth. He turns away from Andrew, his shoulder blades bunching together under his shirt as he leans on the counter.

“Yes or No?” Andrew questions gruffly. There’s sheer silence for several moments until Nathaniel relaxes.

“Yes,” and then Andrew’s hands are on him running down his spine and making him relax. Nathaniel feels like a puddle of water underneath Andrew’s fingertips. The muscles of Neil’s body are toned from years of playing exy, with Nathaniel’s possession they knit together angrily. Andrew massages out the kinks wordlessly.

“I believe you and Andrew have an anniversary coming up,” Andrew says blandly when he’s done.

“Our eighth in earth time,” their nine hundred and sixtieth in hell, Andrew calculates in his head.

“Getting him anything nice then?” Nathaniel laughs, it sounds both bitter and sweet and is far too much like Neil's own laugh for comfort.

“there's not much room for niceties in hell,” Nathaniel says. Running a hand through Neil's deep auburn locks. “I can never get used to the red you know, too much like hellfire,” Andrew doesn't comment on the abrupt change of subject.

“Too much like Nathan you mean?” Andrew quips and Nathaniel's fist clenches.

“Don't even say his name, I hate him, I hate him so much,” Nathaniel growls lowly.

“His name is half of your name,” Andrew points out. Nathaniel's teeth tug at Neil's lips.

“No it's Neil's name, and he wasn't using so I borrowed it,” Nathaniel says.

“Stole it,”

“Waste not want not,” Nathaniel sing-songs. Andrew feels the corners of his mouth tug up, but he doesn't smile.

“You know most people's childhood demons aren't this chatty,” he says.

Most people's childhood demons aren't real,” Nathaniel fires back.

“Careful there, just because some people’s demons aren’t hellspawn doesn’t make it less real,” Andrew says.

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel says.

“Don’t be a liar now Nathaniel, it doesn’t become you.” Andrew hisses, keeping an eye on his knives. He’s sure Neil would understand if it came down to Andrew needing to use them.

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I don’t have fucking feelings,” Nathaniel says.

“Good for you, I don’t care. You can leave now,” Andrew tells him apathetically. Nathaniel sighs and then there’s blessed silence for a few moments.

“Andrew?” Neil’s voice says shakily “Why does my head hurt so much?” Andrew stares at his husband blankly.

“Nate was here wasn’t he. That fucking asshole is going to possess me in the middle of practice and then what am I supposed to do?” Neil whinges.

“Honestly he’d probably just keep playing he loves stickball as much as you do,” Andrew says. Neil flicks his tongue back and forth against his lower lip.

“He was okay though?” Neil questions. Andrew takes a step forward, so he’s standing between Neil’s legs.