Chapter Text
The first time that Andrew even has an inkling that something isn’t quite right, he is a little busy.
“Neil, sit still.” Andrew pushes Neil to sit down for the 18th time in the last 5 minutes. Neil is usually a lot better at following Andrew’s orders, but the blond figures he has to give Neil some grace in this instance. Neil gets itchy feet on a good day. He always wants to be moving and doing something.
Today is not a good day.
Today Neil is very drunk, is bleeding from a head wound that isn’t his fault for once, and is concussed.
“Sorry,” Neil apologizes, fidgeting once again on the crinkling paper of the hospital exam bed. The sound makes Andrew’s skin crawl, but he knows Neil is doing the best he can to stay still, all things considered. “Is Kevin okay?” he asks for the fourth time in 2 minutes.
Andrew sighs, turning Neil’s head again so that he has a better view of the cut. He finds more glass to pluck out of his hair while Neil holds as still as he can.
“Kevin is fine. You’re the one that took the beer bottle to the head,” he reminds, tossing the glass into the garbage bin with a hazardous material label. “They said if you couldn’t stay still, they’d sedate you.”
Neil flinches away, and Andrew regrets the harsh reminder. “I don’t want to be sedated.” Andrew can see Neil’s eyes shift nervously, “What if-”
“Nathan will not be appearing. He’s dead.” Andrew cuts Neil off before his Junkie makes an attempt at running away. “Remember?” he asks, hoping that this memory issue is more related to the alcohol in Neil’s system and not related to the head injury.
Neil looks at him and Andrew reaches out and carefully clamps his hand around the back of Neil’s neck. He feels Neil’s racing heartbeat under his fingers start to slow.
“Sorry,” Neil apologizes again, swaying as he sits. Andrew sighs before climbing onto the uncomfortable bed and planting himself next to Neil. “Can I?”
“Yes.”
Neil leans against him and Neil’s warmth chases away the ill-feeling the sound of the crinkling medical exam paper brings him. Neil lets out a sigh, as if leaning against Andrew was what he’d been waiting for the entire time. Andrew loosens his grip on Neil’s neck, fingers soothing rather than grounding now.
It had been a good night.
It had been a good night until Kevin mouthed off. Surprising to almost literally no one who knows what a perennial pain in Andrew’s ass Kevin is, the fight was about Exy of all things. It was more surprising that there were fans of the damned sport in a bar like Eden’s.
Fans that weren’t Neil, Matt, or Kevin for once.
Andrew doesn’t have a deal with Kevin anymore, not since the finals of Neil’s freshman year. Still, Kevin is one of his, and Andrew always looks after his own.
Except Andrew is a bit distracted.
He isn’t paying attention to Kevin in the slightest. Eden’s has a new light set-up, and he’s a little busy memorizing how each of the colors look on Neil’s alcohol-flushed face. He’s also maybe thinking about kiss-
“That’s it!” is the first warning that Andrew recognizes as a threat. Unfortunately, it is the last warning before the man that Kevin’s arguing with rears his arm back. Andrew is far too deep in the booth to do anything about it.
Neil, sitting next to Kevin, isn’t.
Neil has reacted to far more dangerous situations in far worse states, so it comes as a surprise to no one that Neil moves Kevin’s head out of the way of the bottle. The only issue being that he is too drunk and is focusing too much on Kevin to move his own head out of the way.
So the bottle crashes into Neil’s head, and Andrew freezes in that instant. His eyes don’t go to the remaining danger of the man who just threw a bottle. He’s looking at Neil and Neil alone.
Thankfully, Nicky and Matt fly at the man who threw the bottle. It lets Andrew watch as Neil, ever the master of under-reaction, turns to Kevin with a frown. “You’ve got some glass in your hoodie.”
Kevin makes a horrified noise, face pale in concern. “Neil…”
Andrew feels torn for a moment between destroying the son of a bitch who threw the bottle that put that gash on his boyfriend’s face, and helping that aforementioned boyfriend. Then Neil turns to him and asks, “You didn’t get hurt, right?”
Decision made.
He spares a single glance at Matt and Nicky handling the bastard and sees that his ‘friends’ have their hands up in the universal signal they want nothing to do with the fight their buddy started. The bastard is on the ground and Nicky is pulling Matt back before Matt does something fatal.
He turns his attention back to Neil.
Andrew doesn’t hesitate to bring his hand up to touch Neil’s bleeding head wound. He hears a commotion, and that someone is going to be calling the police. He pauses to marvel at the unusual circumstances that he won’t be the one arrested.
Instead, he and Kevin help Neil out of the booth and out of the club so that the EMTs can get to him quicker.
Andrew only notices the glass in Neil’s hair once they’re outside of the darkened club. “Close your eyes,” he brings his hand up, intending to get rid of the shards before they could threaten Neil’s vision.
Those striking ice-blue eyes roll in exasperation, “‘snot my first time. ‘M very good at it.” He slurs with a sort of pride that makes Andrew want to gnash his teeth. He often dreams of resurrecting Neil’s parents just so that he can kill them again, but slower.
“Wish he used ‘thing with more alcohol…” Neil sways and Andrew hates not knowing if it’s because he’s drunk or because he has a concussion, “...at least it’d be sterile.”
“Neil, I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry.” Kevin keeps repeating, and it is very obvious in Kevin’s body language that Kevin very much wants to do something to help Neil, but that he is just sober enough to realize he’s too drunk to help. Andrew can hardly fathom anything that Kevin could do at his current dexterity level that wouldn’t aggravate Neil’s wound or set Andrew off. “Let them look after you at the hospital,” Kevin pleads.
“…’m fine Kev,” Neil dismisses.
Andrew scowls before he looks at Kevin. The two of them share a long look where nothing needs to be said. This is what Kevin can do to help.
Under the combined force of Andrew and Kevin, there is no chance for Neil to decline the ambulance that comes for him. Whenever Neil starts to gain resistance from Kevin’s pleading or Andrew’s firm “You’re going,” the other one takes his turn.
“..’snot a big deal. Just looks bad…’ead stuff always bleeds the most,” Neil slurs as the EMTs make their way over.
“Neil, you need to get checked out,” Kevin pleads.
“If it’s not a big deal, then this won’t take long.” Andrew agrees, while holding him in place.
Andrew makes Neil sit still and endure the harrowing experience of being checked out for a concussion. Neil complains mightily throughout the examination. As drunk as he is, Neil still argues he could figure out if he had a concussion in two fewer steps and in half of the time.
The EMT leans back from Neil after shining a light in a scowling Neil’s eyes. “Yeah, he definitely has a concussion.” The second EMT confirms the first’s diagnosis.
“Are you going to ask for a third opinion, Neil?” Andrew asks, sitting at his side throughout the entire ordeal.
“It’s a minor concussion,” Neil insists, “Not a concussion concussion.”
Andrew sighs. “We’re going to the hospital, Neil. You need stitches.” He sees Neil gearing up to argue. “You’re too drunk and concussed to do them yourself.”
Neil pouts.
Andrew tosses Nicky his keys, as his cousin is the second most sober person in the group. “I’ll text you when and where to pick us up,” he says before guiding Neil into the ambulance and starting to climb in after him.
An EMT tries to tell him to leave, but Neil’s stubbornness shifts from going to the hospital to Andrew being in the ambulance with him. “If Andrew can’t come, then ’m not going.” He rises from where he was laying down, per Andrew’s earlier guidance.
“Sit down.” Andrew pushes Neil back before looking at the EMTs. “He won’t go anywhere near a hospital without me.”
The two EMTs look at one another and an unspoken conversation happens between them. Finally, the EMT who told Andrew to leave rolls his eyes and heads out the back of the ambulance to go sit up front. “I’m not that delicate,” he says to his partner.
“Of course not,” his partner agrees while shutting the back door.
The ambulance moves and Neil settles until the EMT positions him so he is sitting up. She holds up a small tool. “I’m going to put this in your ear and make sure there is not any glass in there, okay?”
Neil nods, looking irritated, and Andrew sees his discomfort as the EMT pulls on the bottom of his ear before putting the device in to inspect. “What exactly hit him in the head?” she asks.
“A glass bottle,” Andrew answers, eyes on Neil as he offers his hand to his Junkie. Neil hardly wastes a second before he grips Andrew’s hand desperately. He raises an eyebrow at Neil, wondering why he hadn’t asked before if he wants Andrew’s hand so badly, until he remembers the moron he is dealing with.
He pulls Neil’s hand closer to him and runs his fingers along the scars that he’s come to know by touch alone. They feel dry and Andrew makes a mental note to himself that he’ll need to deal with that once he gets Neil back to the Columbia house for the night.
“Ok,” the EMT pulls back, “Good news, no glass in your ear!” she says after a couple minutes of looking. “I’m going to remove the glass from your cut and from your hair,” she explains pulling on different gloves.
Neil grunts in response, closing his eyes, and lets the woman get to work.
Neil, drunk and minorly concussed, complains bitterly the entire way to the hospital that he is only going because Kevin and Andrew were so insistent. That he can do these stitches himself back at the house, even talking about his plentiful experience with taking care of himself similarly concussed circumstances.
“I’ve stitched myself up in the dark while my mom was making hairpin turns,” Neil insists to Andrew, mostly tuning out the EMT as she continues to pick small fragments of glass from his wound. She’s already let him know the wound will probably need a more thorough wash when he gets to the hospital.
“If you go to the doctor, then the stitches on your face won’t look like you did them in the dark while your mom was making hairpin turns,” Andrew says with a frown.
The EMT stifles a snort.
Neil huffs out a laugh. “I don’t think another scar on my face’ll really matter.” He squeezes Andrew’s hand with his own. “Can’t make me look any worse.”
Andrew stiffens at the comment.
Then his brow furrows, and he wonders what in the world Neil means when he says that.
However, before he can ask anything, they arrive at the hospital and Neil is taken out of the ambulance to one of the exam rooms. Andrew sticks next to Neil as much as he can while various medical professionals look at Neil. Medical professionals who all seem to quickly realize that Neil is far easier to deal with if Andrew is there.
After all the various pokings, they are put into a section with a bed and a privacy curtain to wait for a doctor. Andrew spots more glass in Neil’s hair and drags a biological waste bin over to get rid of the last of it. He’ll cover up Neil’s stitches and eyes, shower him down, and apply the lotion to his scars when they get home.
He makes the plan while Neil leans against him, waiting for the doctor to appear. Eventually, the curtains pull back as a nurse comes into their space.
“Now, we’re going to apply a numbing gel to make the next step easier,” the nurse explains with no introduction as she looks at both Neil and Andrew.
Andrew nods, moving to pull some of Neil’s hair back, but Neil shakes his head, rising from Andrew’s shoulder to wave his free hand. “on’t need it. Just stitch me up.” Neil declines and the nurse goes still while Andrew looks to the heavens, more on principle than any genuine belief that a god is looking down and laughing at him.
“Mr. Josten, I’m sure you’re very tough, but-”
“‘S it look like these are gonna be my firsht stitches?” Neil asks, gesturing to his other cheek. “Get it over with,” Neil says, rolling his eyes.
“You’ll need to hold still,” the nurse warns.
“Then I’ll hold still.” Neil rolls his eyes before closing them as he settles back against Andrew’s shoulder.
The nurse sighs, but says nothing else. Andrew reaches over and taps Neil’s hand, before opening it in an offering. Neil cracks his eyes slightly before his hand slides into Andrew’s and Andrew laces them together.
They sit like that in silence for a few long minutes.
The doctor eventually comes in and tries to engage in some minor conversation that neither Neil nor Andrew have any interest in. Andrew only perks up when the doctor asks if Neil would consent to having his wound photographed for the criminal case.
“I don’t want any pictures. I’m not pressing charges,” Neil dismisses, not even opening his eyes.
“Mr. Josten, the state will probably press charges regardless of your wishes,” the doctor explains, and Neil makes an aggravated noise. “Surely- ”
“He’s not giving his consent,” Andrew interrupts, eyes burning. “Tell the pig he can leave.”
Andrew catches the doctor wrong-footed but lets out a gusty sigh before leaving the area again, drawing the curtains closed. Andrew can hear some disgruntled noises but doesn’t comment on it, thumb on the back of Neil’s hand.
Eventually the doctor comes back, frowning, and doesn’t engage in any conversation this time. He gets straight to work, stitching up Neil’s face. Andrew feels like the doctor is rougher than he needs to be while doing it, but holds his tongue as Neil doesn’t seem bothered. Neil doesn’t flinch, doesn’t squeeze Andrew’s hand. His eyes are closed and he looks more like he’s about to fall asleep.
“There we go,” the doctor says, finishing the last stitch to Neil’s face. Andrew watched all 18 of them go in. All 18 of them are a reminder of what he’ll do to the jackass that put them there if he ever gets the chance. “Now, Mr. Josten, you’ll need someone to take these out in about-”
“3-5 days,” Neil recites, yawning. “Can I go home now?”
The doctor scowls. “Mr. Josten, I’m trying to explain your aftercare in-”
“No bright lights. Wake him up every hour. Make sure he’s resting.” Andrew recites, thinking about Aaron’s first aid textbook.
The doctor looks at the two of them with irritation and Andrew stares back while Neil rests against his shoulder, their hands still laced together defiantly. “I’ll bring the discharge paperwork,” he grunts irritably, leaving without bothering to close the curtain this time.
“You’re not going on a morning run the next couple of days. If Kevin complains about you missing practice, then he can practice keeping his mouth shut,” Andrew says, trying to distract himself from the disgusting feeling of being here. The terrible memories coming back in waves.
Neil’s hand tightens around his, and Andrew looks down to see Neil staring up at him. “I see that not even a concussion can take away that staring problem of yours.” He looks at Neil’s blown pupils.
“I like lookin’ at you,” Neil smiles and Andrew hates Neil’s honesty almost as much as he hates Neil. He hates how it pushes back the pins and needles feeling in his skin when Neil’s looking at him like this.
Andrew brings his other hand up to the jagged stitching pulling Neil’s face back together. “You need to find a different thing to collect.” He runs his fingers along the rough texture of it, letting that feeling ground him in the present.
“Better me than Kev,” Neil says, and Andrew doesn’t understand why Neil remains so determined to martyr himself. As if he is collecting scars to pay off some imagined sins. As if he owes the Foxes something more than what they owe him.
“Better you both dodge.” Andrew squeezes Neil’s hand in his own.
“I’ll keep that in mind” Neil smiles and the way his eyes crinkle makes Andrew want to do stupid things and ask for even stupider promises.
Eventually, the doctor comes back, puts on an adhesive covering with strict orders to change the dressing regularly between letting the wound breath. He hands Andrew more than enough and gets them processed out. Andrew gives most of Neil’s insurance information since Neil hardly remembers what insurance the team has, let alone his still relatively new social security number and policy number.
They exit out into the waiting room to find Nicky, Kevin, and Matt all waiting there for them. They all rush over to them, but before Nicky can even try to throw his arms around Neil, Andrew holds his hand out for his keys. It’s enough time for Kevin to be the one standing in front of Neil first.
“Can you play?” Kevin asks, as Nicky hands over the keys to the Maserati without protest.
“Kevin, seriously?” Matt asks incredulously as he comes to stand next to Neil. “Neil is walking out of the hospital with stitches in his head because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. The very first thing you’re worried about is if he can play next week?”
“Of course it is. Neil’s life depends on him getting onto a good team,” Kevin spits back before looking down at Neil. “Can you play?”
“I-”
“Ask again later.” Andrew interrupts, grabbing Neil by the shoulders and marching him towards the exit.
“Andrew!”
“Reply hazy, try again,” Andrew dismisses, leaving the group behind to grab their belongings left sitting in the waiting room as Andrew and Neil exit into the night air.
“Andrew, I’m going to be fine in time for the game next week,” Neil says, and Andrew can hear that irritatingly fond smile of his.
“Abby will be the judge of that.” Andrew hits the car alarm button and sees some people jump out of their skin as the Maserati lights up with the warning siren so that Andrew knows where to go.
“Couldn’t you have just asked Nicky where he parked it?” Neil asks.
“I could have.”
He gets closer and hits the lock button to turn off the alarm. It’s around that time that the rest of the group, with their damnably long legs, catch up. Kevin complains bitterly about him, Matt, and Nicky being in the back when they are all taller than Neil and Andrew, but Andrew loads Neil into the passenger seat regardless and the three squeeze into the back. Andrew puts the key in the ignition and resumes his self-appointed task of getting Neil back to the Columbia house. He’ll get Neil in the bathroom, wash the rest of the blood and glass from him, see how Neil feels about possibly some light making out, and then get him into bed, regardless of the answer, to sleep.
He stops at a red light and takes that moment to look at Neil to continue a thought he’d had hours ago at the club. It is infuriating that Neil is audacious enough to look good in any lighting, and outrageous that he’s even more handsome with a bit of dried blood on his face.
“Can’t believe some worthless thug would hurt Neil’s pretty face,” Nicky says from the back.
“Yes, my poor pretty face,” Neil says with a snort.
They drive in silence and Neil seems to doze off in the passenger seat. “Was he arrested?” Andrew asks.
“The guy who glassed Neil?” Matt asks.
“No, Roland.” Andrew rolls his eyes but remembers that none of the three are working with a full tank at the moment. It was reckless to have Nicky drive here in retrospect, but Andrew’s mind had been on Neil. “Yes, the guy who glassed Neil.”
“Well, the cops took him away. We gave them Neil’s contact info and when you texted Nicky, we sent them to the hospital you said you were at.” Matt is the one that answers.
Andrew has to come to a relatively quick stop that wakes Neil from his short doze. “Where?”
“Maserati, we’re going home,” Andrew answers.
“Hey, how’s your head feeling, Neil?” Matt asks, leaning forward, crowding Kevin’s space in the middle.
“I’m fine.”
“Neil, we’ve talked about you using those words. Your pretty face had to get stitches!” Nicky repeats.
“Yeah, I got stitches. I’m fine,” Neil reiterates stubbornly. “I was dozing, but you said the cops’re gonna call?”
“Don’t worry, I already told them you’re bad at responding and to just leave a voicemail,” Matt reassures.
“I don’t know how that’ll help since his voicemail message just says he doesn’t check it. I think Andrew’s the one who listens and clears it out for him,” Kevin huffs elbowing Matt back so that he’ll stop taking up the limited space.
“Shut up, I check my voicemail.” Neil grumbles, face against the cold glass of the window. Andrew wonders if it feels good on his cut or if he’s just tired.
“Look at? Maybe. Listen to them? Never,” Kevin says and Andrew can hear the eye roll from him.
“Leave me alone, I’m hurt.” Andrew has to live with the fact that Neil using injuries as an excuse to get out of things…is progress.
“Yeah, Kevin, he’s hurt!” Nicky admonishes, and Andrew can hear the teasing in his cousin’s voice and the sound of a joking smack.
“Yeah, Kevin, he’s hurt!” Matt agrees, but it is far more sincere than Nicky’s by a mile and Andrew hears the sound of another light smack.
“Don’t hit me! I’m not wrong!” Kevin says and Andrew hears the slight noise of Kevin huffily leaning back in his seat.
Kevin spends the rest of the car ride arguing his correctness, while Matt and Nicky argue that the issue isn’t correctness, but Neil’s injury. Neil dozes off during the argument, unbothered by the noise of his friend’s argument. It’s only when Matt reminds Kevin that Neil is not only hurt, but hurt because of Kevin’s actions, that the star striker shuts up.
“I’ll check Neil’s voicemail if I have to,” Kevin says instead as they arrive at the house. “So that idiot gets what he deserves.”
“You can’t go through a committed man’s messages, Kevin! Who knows what kind of salacious voicemail Andrew has left for Neil to listen to!” Nicky argues.
“He’d actually check his voicemails if Andrew did stuff like that,” Kevin dismisses out of hand and Andrew’s tempted to leave a few just out of spite. His gaze slides to Neil dozing in his passenger seat, maybe not entirely out of spite.
He puts the Maserati in park and touches Neil’s hand. He watches as Neil startles awake. “Where…” Neil looks around in confusion, and Andrew feels his heart speed up for a moment before Neil blinks and relaxes. “Oh, we’re home from the hospital.”
Andrew feels the familiar flutter in his chest when Neil calls the Columbia house his home, looking at the key that Neil keeps around his neck still. He knows that if Neil were feeling less concussed and generally bad, that he’d be rushing out of the car to open the front door with that key, but Neil’s merely blinking up at the house owlishly.
It’s enough for right now. “Nicky, get the door,” Andrew orders and Nicky is out of the car in an instant. Andrew climbs out and watches from the other side as Matt climbs out and opens Neil’s passenger door. He’s rarely bothered by his height anymore. It’s something he’s learned to deal with, but he hates it when he watches how easily Neil folds into Matt’s arms. Their size difference making it possible for Neil to curl up.
“Where’s your room again Andrew?” Matt asks and his irritation at the backliner diminishes slightly.
“Follow me.” Andrew walks to the front door, making it there as Nicky manages to fumble his way through the arduous task of pulling the key from his pocket and sticking it into the lock.
He guides Matt to the room he and Neil share and Matt stops by the bed. Andrew raises an eyebrow, and gestures. “Put him on the bed.”
“Pull back the blanket.”
“I need to get him out of his shoes, and that outfit isn’t what he’s going to spend the night in.” Andrew rolls his eyes.
Matt pouts and Andrew can just imagine the backliner tucking Neil into bed. He thinks he’ll be lucky if Matt leaves without reading Neil a bedtime story about how ‘sometimes it is better to let other people get hurt instead of hurting yourself’ that Matt would make up on the spot to teach Neil to let Kevin get glassed himself next time.
After a moment, Matt puts Neil on their bed and Neil smiles when his friend plants a kiss to his forehead. “Let Kevin get hit next time,” Matt says.
“Can you imagine how much of a stink Kevin’d raise if I did that?” Neil laughs.
“I’d prefer putting up with his bitching a thousand times over you getting hurt.” Matt touches the bandages on his face gently. No one would ever doubt who Matt would choose if either Neil or Kevin had to get glassed. The backliner’s loyalty to Neil ensures Kevin would be the one taking the bottle to the head 100 times out of 10.
Neil’s smile is evidence enough that even he knows it. “Can’t let Kevin’s pretty face get cut up.”
“You’re the only pretty boy I care about.” Matt makes a face like he’s going to cry. Andrew knows that if he lets this continue, he’ll be dealing with Matt insisting on spending the night cuddling Neil, and one look at Neil tells him that Neil would happily let his best friend do that.
“The pretty boy needs to sleep.” Andrew knocks the two of them out of their bromance trance.
Matt straightens up immediately, wipes at his eyes, and presses another kiss to Neil’s forehead. Personally, Andrew thinks it should be illegal for Neil to giggle when there are other people around considering what it does to him, but he allows it. Even with the gash on his face, Neil is unreasonably pretty when he smiles and giggles.
Matt leaves, heading to Aaron’s room where he’ll be sleeping tonight. Andrew turns his gaze to Neil, who looks at him. “Bed?”
“Not quite.” Andrew shakes his head. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.” He adjusts his plans. Neil’s too tired for Andrew to put him in the bath or even the shower, but he can still get him cleaned up. He wets 2 washcloths in the sink and a towel before coming back to find Neil nodding off again.
“Yes or No?” he asks and Neil mumbles his yes. Andrew has Neil lift his hips so he can take off the tight pants that Andrew remembers squeezing Neil into hours before when they were getting ready for the club. He looks and touches but nothing feels sticky from the hours old beer at this point, so he only gives a cursory wipe down to Neil’s legs.
Next is Neil’s shirt and now that Neil’s jacket is off, he can see a large patch of dried blood he hadn’t noticed before. He’s a bit too quick when he pulls Neil’s shirt off to wash it off. Neil lets out a hiss of pain as the adhesive covering his stitches peels away with the overly tight shirt.
Andrew’s hand flies to Neil’s stitches seeing a small bit of blood, but none of the stitches look damaged. He peels the covering off of Neil’s shirt before going and grabbing one of the additional coverings the doctor gave him. Neil reaches for it, but Andrew pulls it away. “Not yet,” and it’s all Neil needs to hear for his hand to drop to his side.
The first order of business is cleaning Neil’s chest of any sticky residue from the beer and then he cleans off the blood dried onto Neil’s neck. Throwing the first wash cloth towards where he threw Neil’s clothes for the night, he grabs the second. The second finds its use to quasi-wash Neil’s hair to make sure that there is no glass remaining. The last step is drying Neil off with the towel when he’s done cleaning him off.
Andrew grabs the moisturizing cream for Neil’s scars, and Neil falls asleep as Andrew rubs it into his face, his apology for the rough treatment earlier spoken only through the gentleness of his care for Neil now. He rouses Neil after 10 minutes while putting the fresh bandage over his stitches.
Then they’re under the covers with the lights off. Andrew’s alarm will go off every few hours to check on Neil throughout the night. He’s not on the side that he usually sleeps on, but he wants to face Neil and he isn’t about to have Neil sleep on his injured side, so Neil’s back is to the wall.
He reaches up and touches the bandage with fingers that have learned to be gentle. “Don’t do this again.”
“‘Snot like I moved in front of Kev to take the hit,” Neil mumbles on the other half the pillow they ae both occupying. “I just forgot to move myself out of the way.”
“Move yourself out of the way first.” Andrew’s fingers trail to Neil’s cheek, thumb finding the familiar texture of Neil’s burns even in the dark.
“I’ll try,” Neil says. Andrew wants something firm, something concrete, but also knows that firm concrete-like things are the first things to break.
Neil hates breaking promises to him.
“Good,” Andrew accepts, fingers still tracing the profile of Neil’s pretty face in the dark.
***
The night is not a comfortable one for either of them. Andrew and Neil get up often throughout the night to make sure that Neil’s mental faculties aren’t declining. At one point, Neil gives Andrew the wrong name, but Andrew figures that it’s almost expected and corrects himself pretty quickly when he realizes Andrew is not Mary.
In the morning Neil is tired, sore and cranky, but Matt makes smiley eggs and bacon for him, which makes him laugh. They spend most of that Saturday in bed napping since they made it through the initial period after a head injury.
Andrew wakes up to the mid-afternoon summer sun shining on Neil’s sleeping face. His face is half-buried in a pillow, but the part that is out is the part that was hit. Neil’s face is black and blue from the impact with the glass. Andrew reaches out and thinks about the cut on Neil’s face. He imagines it as a scar and…it’s not a bad look.
He traces the injury, hand almost magnetically drawn to Neil’s hurts. Neil grumbles and scrunches his face at the touch, but doesn’t pull away or even open his eyes.
“Staring,” Neil comments, never one to miss an opportunity to give sass.
“Shut up.”
Neil seems to drop back to sleep and Andrew takes his time drinking in the sight of Neil’s face. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever grow tired of it. “Why’re you staring? Does it look bad?”
“No worse than usual,” Andrew answers automatically.
“You like me, awful face and all.” Neil’s eyes slit open to look at him with that smile that does things to Andrew’s heart. He’d shove Neil out of bed if it weren’t for the fact that he has a head injury and is still sleeping with his back to the wall.
“Shut up,” he repeats, glad that Neil’s eyes are still closed.