#kid!robin

It was between seasons: He usually did team reviews so that new kids could try out and get onto the waiting lists for the fall season next September: Then he’d form a team of those new-comers to practise together throughout the spring season, occasionally versing his league teams as practise. Right now, he was watching a bunch of kids scrimmage and cause an absolute ruckus of themselves: He always let them have a free-for-all at the end of tryouts, to work off the stress and anxiety that being tested always granted.

Parents were no longer watching avidly in the stands, instead, mingling with one another.

Neil bashed his fist against the plexiglass, waving them off the court. They filed off sullenly, packing up their things and saying goodbye to one another as they sipped on water bottles and snacked on fruits and granola bars.

Robin sidled up to him, smiling through her exhaustion. “So?”

“What.” He said, flatly.

“Can he join?” She pointed to Kevin. “He’s very good. He’s going to be better than me. Because he’s taller. I think.” She frowned.

He frowned. “He can join, if he’d like to.”

“My team?” She bounced excitedly.

He looked at her with veiled exasperation. No, he’d say for the millionth time. Teams were divided up into ages, but Robin was in 1sts, and Kevin would be placed into the newcomer’s team for the next fall season.

“Kevin! Kevin! Neil says you can join.” Robin waved the young boy over, who was aimlessly pushing hair out of his eyes as he untied his shoes. He looked up, sheepish, as he shuffled over. He’d be taller than Neil in the next few years. That wasn’t surprising: Most kids in Neil’s older teams were taller than him.

“I’d like to.” Kevin said. “But I don’t think Dad will let me.”

Neil frowned. “Why?”

“He doesn’t like you.” Kevin pouted. “Because apparently you’re an idiot.”

Neil glowered. “Is he picking you up tonight, Kevin?”

Kevin nodded.

That’s how Neil found himself marching over to Andrew Minyard’s sleek, black sport’s car, rapping harshly on the tinted glass with Kevin cowering a few feet away, and an angry little Robin at Neil’s elbow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The sarcastic drawl of Andrew’s voice made the hair at the back Neil’s neck stand. He felt his fingers curl against the smooth leather, hoping that his fingers scratched the stupid car and left some sort of mark on the arrogant bastard’s materialistic pride and joy.

“Whatever problem you have with me,” Neil snapped. “It’s entirely unjust to not let Kevin join the activity he wants to because of it. Grow up, pull your head out of your ass, and think about what’s the best for your child.”

Andrew gazed at him coldly and said nothing. Kevin scrambled into his father’s car, curled into the corner furthest from Neil, behind his dad.

Neil stood back, letting Andrew wind up the window. He watched as the car left.

“Will he let Kevin join the team?” Robin worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. Neil took her tiny hand in his own.

“I don’t know, Robin.” He said truthfully.

It had Andrew frothing with anger. How dare he tell Andrew what was best for his own damned kid. Like he was a better parent than Andrew, like he had more experience, like he wasn’t just as fucked up and terrified of making his own kid’s childhood hellish and continuing the cycle of abuse.

Andrew had never forbade Kevin from playing exy in the first place!

Asshole. Fuck him. Fuck him!

“Andrew, seriously. Just fuck him.” Nicky examined his nails, tutting at how he’d already chipped his manicure. “Your anger is clearly just pent-up sexual tension. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Gross.” Aaron complained through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Fuck you.” Andrew grumbled, sinking lower into his chair. It was Tuesday night, Family night, where Aaron left his white-picket-fence and perfect wife, and Nicky spent his night off. They usually did it at Nicky’s apartment, but he was in the middle of packing up to move into his boyfriend’s apartment.

Kevin was fast-asleep upstairs, having worn himself out playing that stupid sport. It might be good for him to join a team sport, Andrew considered. It would also mean he’d go to sleep easier, if he was tired. There was nothing stopping him from joining the team, except maybe Andrew had made his opinion of Neil Josten too obvious, and then Kevin had gone talking, and now he had Neil-Too-Hot-For-His-Own-Fucking-Good-Josten barking up his ass about parenting.

Fucking hell.

“He does sound like a massive asshole, though.” Nicky winked at him. “Though I’m not the one attracted to smart-mouths.”

“Fuck off, Nicky.”

“I’m trying to watch the game, here.” Aaron said, only mildly irritated. “Nicky, shut your damned mouth. Andrew, stop being such a hypocrite. Kevin, are you okay?”

Andrew shot up to look at his son, who had covertly snuck down the stairs from his room. He had a small fox plushie in his arms, his hair a wild mess. Andrew would need to cut it again soon.

“Sorry, Dad.” He curled his shoulders in. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Andrew stood immediately, ignoring Nicky as he stage whispered “God, I still can’t get over how cute that is.” He took Kevin into the kitchen and sat him on a barstool, getting cocoa out of the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Luckily, Kevin liked no sugar in his, so it wouldn’t keep him up any longer than necessary.

“Nightmare?”

Kevin shook his head.

Andrew leaned onto the counter opposite him. “Kevin, is this about Robin Josten’s father?”

“Why don’t you like him?” Kevin burst out. “I really want to play exy, and I know that there are other teams than Robin’s team, but I liked playing with Robin, and there are other kids from school on the team, but you don’t like him, so -”

“Kevin.” Andrew said, calmly. “You can join Robin’s team. I would never stop you from doing so. It’s the most localised team anyway, and they’re very good.”

“But why don’t you like Coach Josten?” Coach Josten, oh my god. Andrew had a sudden, inappropriate mental image of Neil Josten in small running shorts and a low-cut tank top. Jesus Christ.

“When you and Robin were fighting at school, her father and I weren’t very friendly to one another.” Andrew put his entwined hands under his chin. “I just wanted to protect you from someone who was being mean to you. But if you and Robin are friends, I’ll try and get along with her father for you.”

Kevin sipped on his hot cocoa. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Andrew stood up. “Okay. Good. Did Robin’s father say how to apply for the team?”

“His name is Neil.” Kevin supplied, unhelpfully.

“Right.” Andrew said, drily. “Fantastic.”

So much for avoiding the fucker.

The South Carolina Exy League, who had ordained Neil as the Exy junior’s coach, owned Columbia’s court and had provided him with a small office on the second floor of the facility. It was a really nice court, which was well-kept, the expenditures mostly from the adult’s league. Neil’s office was just as well-kept, though that was out of his own pocket. It meant the funds for the kids’ teams could be kept to the minimum, so he didn’t mind.

Usually people knocked at his door when it was closed, so when the door banged open, Neil was already expecting the worst.

Andrew threw the application papers onto Neil’s desk. The suit blazer was tight across broad shoulders, and everything about him screamed expensive, down to the shine of his shoes. He must have presented in court.

“Fuck my son around and I’ll kill you.” Andrew warned. “Don’t tell me how to fucking parent, either.”

Neil huffed. “Fabulous impression that you’re giving off here.”

He pointed at Neil. “Don’t test me.” The door slammed behind him.

Well. That was that.