Chapter Text
Kevin is panicking. Predictably.
Wymack and Abby are failing miserably at calming him down. Dan is raging, Matt flapping about, Nicky looks close to tears, Aaron standing stiffly, Allison is silent, Renee at her side and Janie looks like she's about to be sick.
In short, its chaos. Its Monday morning, two night since Gordon's overdose (ahem, murder - thanks Riko) and the call from the ERC less than and hour and a half ago has thrown the rest of the team into complete disarray.
They need a replacement and fast. They need another player on their line-up by the end of the week or they're out for the rest of the season and its far too late for them to find someone decent to sign onto the team. Let alone someone crazy enough to join the dead-last Foxes and meet Wymack's criteria. Huh, there's a thought.
So at least it's justified chaos. Doesn't making it any less fucking annoying in Andrew's opinion. He heaves a sigh. This whole ordeal would probably be a lot more amusing if he was still medicated but thank whatever sick fuck pulled the stings of this universe his sentence had expired over the summer and the constant buzzing high wasn't another thing he had to put up with.
He's beginning to get a headache.
"Shut Up!" Wymack's voice booms and the noise of the room dies as the Foxes quit their flapping, "Sit down."
Andrew is the first to flop back onto his claimed couch and the others follow.
Wymack drags a hand down over his face, looking like he's earnt every year he's lived,
"Now, does anyone have any ideas on anything that we might be able to do?"
Andrew scans his unfortunate teammates, watching with detached interest as they all draw blanks. He sighs again. Great.
"I might be able to solve your little problem Coach."
Wyamck blinks at him as Dan sits up straight in her seat, "What does that mean?"
He flicks her a bored look as he pulls out his phone. Time to see if he's been left with another broken promise.
A hush falls over the room as he types into the device before hitting speaker.
Ring
Ring
Ring
Click
"Who's this?" the voice that comes through the speaker is so different from the one Andrew recalls so perfectly - yet hasn't changed at all with the time.
There's a scuffling from the other end of the line, "I swear to God if this is another fucking 'wrong number' prank call type shit..."
Andrew fights the smirk twitching at his lips, "I didn't think you were the religious type, Rabbit."
"Andrew?"
"Ding ding, ten points to the runaway."
There's a huffed laugh and more scuffling on the other end followed by a muffled omf. Andrew narrows his eyes.
"You're timing absolutely sucks. Like. Really, really sucks Andrew."
There's a sharp cracking noise and distant yells as the breathing through the line loses its regularity.
"Are you running again Rabbit?"
Andrew can hear the grin in Abram's voice as he replies, "What made you think I ever stopped?"
Andrew ignores the looks the Foxes are throwing at each other and the concerned pinch to Wyamck's brow as he sits up straighter, staring intently at his phone like he could see right down the line to the mess Abram's in.
"Hold up, gimme a minute." Abram says and Andrew listens intently to the thud, scraping of metal on metal, snapping, cursing and finally the squealing of tyres on tarmac before Abram's quick breathing returns.
"So," he says a little breathless, "who died?"
"Seth Gordon."
"Huh, my condolences."
Andrew raises a brow, "Why the fuck would I need your condolences idiot?"
Abram scoffs, "I'm not an idiot, I'm on speaker. I'm assuming the rest of your team or at the very least your Coach is listening?"
Dammit. Sometimes its easy to forget how sharp Abram is, though he shouldn't be surprised - very few thirteen year olds can see something is deeply wrong after four minutes on the same park bench.
"Stalker much?" he replies, of course he'd know who Gordon was in relation to Andrew.
"Not stalking," he argues, "keeping an eye out."
And doesn't that hurt? Knowing that the boy on the other end of the line is still looking out for him just over five years later. The boy with much bigger things to worry about, things like a heavy-handed mother, a powerfully angry father and mafia lackeys on his trail, cares enough about him to risk keeping an eye out.
"I hate you."
"I know."
Silence rises and Wymack gives a small pointed cough from his stance next to Abby by the entertainment centre.
Abram either must have heard the noise or some sixth sense prompts him to speak up again,
"So it there a reason you called? Not that I'm complaining but if this is just a house-call do you think we could pick this up later? I am still kinda in the middle of something."
In the middle of trying not to get shot if the loud crack of glass shattering and hissed swearing that follows is anything to go by.
"I need a favour."
Andrew can almost picture the way Abram's attention would be snapping to him the moment those words leave his mouth. A favour. Andrew doesn't do favours, he does deals and promises and acts of retaliation. Not blank checks. That much is obvious from the look on his twin's face and Nicky's gasp.
Abram, he knows, hasn't heard it like that. He hasn't heard the offer of a blank check. He's heard a request for help. Calling in a promise made by a boy with too many names and not enough time.
"Anything." is his answer, an echo of the past. Anything.
"We need a new striker sub."
"Andrew-"
"The ERC is going to shut us down for the season if we don't find one before the next match." He cuts him off as he raises his eyes to meet Wymack's, "It'll be the death of the Foxes."
There's a shaky exhale through the phones speakers and Andrew takes that as an invite to keeping going.
"Our scholarships are on the line," He flicks a look to Aaron before staring resolutely at the coffee table, "My Cousin's on a Marketing degree, My brother is Pre-Med."
"Fuck."
"Not to mention Day is signed on for this year and I'm sure you know the Raven's have migrated south."
"Double fuck."
"Yep."
Andrew waits, waits as Abram's breathing evens slightly as he thinks the whole mess through. He's smart enough to fill the gaps with what Andrew's given him. His Family needs the Foxes, Day needs the Foxes. Andrew, quite honestly, doesn't give a shit. But Abram knows what being Andrew's family means. Knows the sacrifice Andrew was willing to make for someone he’d never met and was never planning to. Knows what the Foxes likely mean to him.
And Andrew knows that he’ll agree. Regardless of the risk it’ll put him at. Regardless of his fear of his father. Regardless of the danger it’ll put them all in. Simply because Andrew called. Called for the first time since his deal with Aaron was formed. And is asking for a favour.
"Well this is going to be fun isn’t it?" Abram sighs, "Sad to see I’m still fucking crazy, my mother will be spinning in her shallow grave right about now."
"Grave?"
"A year and 3 months."
Andrew stays quiet, he never met Mary but he knows for certain if he had he would have stabbed the woman, so he won’t mirror Abram’s condolences - the grief in his words his enough to know he doesn’t want them. Not from him.
Their quiet is interrupted by the sound of a blasting car horn from Abram’s end and a screeching tearing sound.
Andrew stiffens.
"What was that?" Dan exclaims, startled.
"Wing mirror." is the only response Abram gives before he shifts the conversation, "Anything else I should know?"
Andrew shakes his head like he can see him before opening his mouth to speak,
"Come to Palmetto," he manages, "before the end of the week."
"Okay," there's a small pause, "See you Thursday Andrew."
Click
The line disconnects.