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badacts · 7 years

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order

a pro-era companion fic to corvus, vulpes, lupus for @thepalmtoptiger, featuring the ny rebels

They’re having drinks at the local bar after practice when everyone’s phone beeps with a message at the same time.

“It’s Jamie,” Shearer says, first to wrestle his out of his pocket. “Meeting tomorrow before morning practice. God, as if we don’t have to be there early enough.”

“It’ll be a new signing,” Pierce says. His raccoon daemon is shelling and eating peanuts off of the table with her little dextrous hands, and it’s mesmerising to watch. “I bet you.”

Anita scoffs. “That’s not even a challenge, of course it’ll be about a signing. We should be betting on who it actually is.”

“Jeremy Knox,” Shearer says immediately.

“He just got signed to New Orleans, you groupie,” Cooper says. “Don’t you people read the news?”

To be fair, she has insider knowledge – she was Jeremy’s captain at USC and handed over the reins to him when she graduated, and she’s kept in touch since. Jeremy would love to be in New York, but the Rebels don’t need a backliner and he won’t go anywhere without Moreau. Give it another year, maybe.

“It’ll be an offensive player, right? Seeing as Soo is out for the season,” Anita muses. “What strikers do we know are looking to move?”

“Unless we know them personally, I don’t know we’re going to know that,” Pierce points out.

“Just pick the ones having the worst season,” Cooper says, earning a laugh from around the table. “Whitehall will be looking for a new team after the last few weeks. The Senators are bombing.”

“Piper Jackson from Washington? I heard a rumour she might be looking to move,” Anita offers.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Shearer says. “Ten bucks that it’s Brockmann though.”

They all groan. The striker for the Eagles is a great player, but he’s also a complete dickhead. The Rebels already have enough asshole personalities on their offensive line without adding another.

“Well, I’m saying Piper,” Cooper suggests. “Dreams are free, right?”

“Yeah, but bets aren’t,” Orion mutters from her lap. She strokes his wiry-coated back.

“I’ll put my ten on Carmody from the Jackdaws,” Anita says, her smile turning smug when the rest of them boo because they didn’t think of Carmody first. The guy’s wife and kids are in New York and he’s in Florida – it makes perfect sense.

“Damn it, girl,” Pierce says. “I’ll go for Whitehall, then. I can’t think of anyone else.”

“I hope you’re right, for his sake,” Cooper jokes, taking another sip of her beer.

“It’s Neil Josten,” Minyard says. It’s the first thing he’s said all night since he ordered a whiskey rocks at the bar. If it were in any way possible to forget he was there – not to mention his enormous hyena daemon, who is lying under Minyard’s chair – Cooper would have done so.

“No way,” Pierce says. “His team is finals material. There’s no way he’ll be planning on leaving after a year.”

“You used to play with him,” Shearer says. He’s a couple of glasses of wine in, and his lizard daemon has slumped over his shoulder absorbing his body heat. “He has a fox daemon, right? That must have been weird. I mean, your team was called the Foxes.”

“It’s super on-theme, you can give him that,” Anita says. “Is that your bet, Andrew?”

Minyard raises his glass to her in a salute. From the under the table there’s a chuff like laughter. Cooper draws her feet up in surprise – she’s not nervy by nature, but she’s seen her teeth. She bets the others do the same.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” she says to cover it. She doubts it works.

Of course, it’s Neil Josten.

“You had insider knowledge, didn’t you,” Cooper hisses at Minyard out of the corner of her mouth. “That’s cheating.”

He looks at her blandly. “I told you who it was.”

He doesn’t bother to lower his voice, which means that everyone turns to look at him. This includes Neil Josten, who is standing at the front of the room with his very beautiful silver fox daemon across his shoulders like a stole, and with the general manager and Jamie, their head coach beside him. Jamie frowns his be professional face at Cooper, but Josten smiles a little bit when he sees who has spoken.

Cooper obligingly shuts up, because those people are in charge of her job. She instead surveys their newest player, as of the beginning of next season. Josten is short and slim, but Cooper has seen video of him playing – she knows that he’s fast. She also knows that he’s trained under Kevin Day, and that in his first season after graduating from college he’s help to take his middling-ranked team to the top of the table in the north-western conference.

He doesn’t look like much. Looks can be deceiving, though.

“Josten’s going to join us for practice today,” Jamie tacks on at the end, gruffer than their general manager. “Coop, make sure he knows where he’s going.”

Cooper is in charge of wrangling the rookies, because she’s good at it – patient, but not too patient, and good-humoured. Their captain Castle is very good at what he does, but he’s no good with the newbies – that’s why she’s chief babysitter, and also why she’s vice-captain. She waves to acknowledge the direction and to show Josten who Jamie means, and gets another small smile in response.

“Unless you want to?” she asks Minyard, as the quiet breaks and Josten starts to make his way across the room to them through the milling Rebels. “You guys are friends, right?”

Minyard stares at her. “No.”

“I’m going to take that as a no to my first question, not my second,” she says, nonplussed, right before Josten arrives at their side.

His daemon jumps from his shoulder to the floor and bounds forwards to greet Minyard’s, so they touch noses. The fox’s tail is wagging, and her mouth is open in a grin.

“Hey,” Josten says directly to Minyard.

“Hello, Neil,” Minyard replies. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Cooper isn’t good enough at deciphering him yet - she’s only vaguely sure he doesn’t hate her.

“Hi,” Cooper says, because she’ll be waiting all day if she waits for Minyard to introduce her. “I’m Kristen Cooper.”

“I know. I watched you in your game against the Titans last week. That save in the last five against O’Sullivan was great,” Josten says. He sounds exactly like he does in interviews – the ones where he doesn’t start riots, that is. Smooth and professional, serious but with a touch of a smile.

“Thanks,” she replies. “Come on, I’ll show you around a little and then leave you to the tender care of Minyard here in the changing rooms.”

“Tender care,” says an unfamiliar voice. “Have they met you?”

It takes Cooper a moment to realise that it’s Josten’s daemon speaking. She blinks. Not only is she loud enough for Cooper to clearly hear, but she seems to be talking directly to Minyard.

“This is Sin,” Josten tells Cooper, a little bit rueful. “Excuse her.”

Sin seems to ignore that. Cooper has never seen another daemon like her. She can just about taste Orion’s uncertainty where he’s sitting on his haunches by her feet, his ears pricked.

“Bet he can score on Andrew today,” she says, quieter but still audible, this time only to Minyard’s daemon. The hyena huffs in response.

“Come see the court,” Cooper says, because there’s not really much else to say.

Josten joins the Rebels during pre-season practice, looking less ruffled than anyone who has just upended his life to move to the other side of the country has a right to. Cooper has been in New York for several years, and she hasn’t forgotten the fortnight-long panic of moving from LA yet.

He’s – he’s good. Good enough to make Minyard push himself, and that is interesting to watch. He’s also stubborn enough that he knocked Wilson – the Rebel’s most annoying striker – onto his ass when he said something that Josten won’t relay.

“He’s as crazy as his daemon,” Orion says when they’re back in the apartment, Cooper flopped face down on the couch. He jumps onto her lower back and curls up there, like a little fox terrier hot water bottle. She sighs.

“Point conceded,” she agrees after a moment. “Hey, do you reckon he and Minyard are actually friends? I can’t tell if it’s just a familiarity thing or not.”

“Amaranth talks to Sin,” Orion replies. “She doesn’t really do that with the rest of us.”

“Amaranth. I didn’t realise that was her name. She talks to you, right?”

“Yes,” Orion says, patiently. They’ve had this conversation before, back when Cooper was wondering whether Andrew hated her.

“I swear Josten was talking to her the other day. Amaranth, I mean.”

“Probably. They do that.”

“What, really? Like, a lot? You didn’t say.” Cooper had thought she’d been witnessing some kind of one-off event.

“You didn’t ask,” he points out, because he’s kind of an ass sometimes.

“Maybe Sin has desensitised him to talking to other daemons. She talks to everyone.”

“Or maybe they’re friends.”

“Hm,” Cooper says, non-committal. “Maybe.”

“Andrew says you’re the person to talk to about drills.” Josten plunks his drink – it’s soda – down on the table, and then sits. Sin springs up onto the table top, investigating the sticky patches on it with her whiskery muzzle. Orion watches her do it, ears pricked.

“Did he say that? Wow, I think I just got the warm fuzzies,” she replies.

Josten looks at her strangely, and then says, “I have some ideas for drills to add to the repertoire for the strikers. For aim, mostly.”

Cooper sits back in her seat. “I could ask what’s wrong with our current drill sets, but you know it’s a Saturday night, right? We can talk about this on Monday.”

“Now you sound like Andrew,” Josten says. He looks a little bit dismayed.

“Smart man,” Cooper says. “Go. Get drunk. Pretend to be a normal twenty-something for a little bit.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Of course you don’t. Let me guess, you drink juice that’s green, too.”

Josten makes a face. “No. I don’t see the point. Juices are mostly sugar, and even with kale-”

“Neil has an issue with sugar,” Minyard says. Cooper jumps, jostling Orion on her lap and making him yelp – Minyard just appeared from nowhere.

Josten turns to look at him, some amusement on his face. “Should I tell her-”

“Be quiet,” Minyard replies. Amaranth is standing at his side, and Sin jumps down to her, skirting close to Minyard’s feet as she does so. She’s in easy reach, but she doesn’t look even vaguely frightened to be so close to him.

“I should have just said that,” Cooper tells Josten. She turns to Minyard. “Hey, take him away. I’m not talking shop, it’s the weekend.”

Minyard looks at Josten and jerks his head in the direction of the bar. Josten slides straight out of his seat, leaving his completely full soda on the table like he’s forgotten all about it. Cooper doesn’t have the heart to point that out as she watches him follow Minyard and their daemons across the floor.

“They’re definitely friends,” she whispers to Orion. He hums back.

Josten has a bad track record for injuries, so it’s not surprising someone tries to break his face open in his first game for the Rebels.

His track record still isn’t as bad as his attitude, though – that’s the only reason Cooper can imagine explaining why he goes after the backliner who is twice his size after they already made him bleed. Attitude, and adrenaline.

The fight basically embroils the whole team other than the goalies. Cooper is the one who ends up with Josten, the back of his jersey held fast in her hand. He’s a livewire in her grip, practically steaming with exertion. He’s also dripping blood on the floor.

“Pinch your nose,” she tells him as she carts him across the court to the door. He got a yellow card, but he’s going off for blood if she has to physically carry him to the medical room.

“I’m fine,” he replies. His nose is stuffed up and he still sounds angry.

“Excuse me, I’m your vice-captain. Do it, you little shit,” she says.

Unexpectedly, he laughs. “Are you allowed to call me that?”

“Josten, you were schooled by Dan Wilds. I’ve met her, I know it’s not the first time you’ve been called that,” she replies. They’re at the door, which is being held open. “Yo, Minyard. Take him to the doc.”

Wilson jogs past to take the empty striker position as Cooper shoves Josten through. He seems to stumble on the threshold, wavering as he lifts a hand to his face.

Sin, who is at his feet, says, “Neil. Neil!” Minyard steps forward to balance him at the same time as Cooper. Neither of them are as fast as Amaranth.

She’s massive, especially next to Josten’s diminutive height. He puts a hand on her broad back, fingers curling into her coat, and somehow doesn’t fall over.

They all end up crushed in the doorway together. Cooper feels vaguely panicked – they shouldn’t be doing that – but she swallows it in the face of the fact that the rest of them seem completely unbothered.

“I’m alright,” Josten says, dazedly.

“Shut up,” Minyard replies, taking Josten’s hand off of Amaranth’s back and hooking it over his own shoulders. “Cooper, get back on the court.”

“Five years,” Neil says. They’re using first names now, because this is Andrew and Neil’s apartment. Their shared apartment. “Five years?”

Andrew stares back at him and doesn’t reply. Neil seems to take this as confirmation. He continues rubbing the underside of Amaranth’s chin, slow and easy.

“Five years,” Sin agrees, stalking across the back of the couch behind Neil and Amaranth. She jumps across to the desk where Andrew is perched, sticking her head out of the window where he’s hanging his hand and cigarette out in the night air. Her tail brushes against him thoughtlessly.

Cooper has Orion cuddled safely in her lap, and she’s rubbing the sows-ear softness of his belly. She can’t imagine having someone close enough to be like that with. Somehow, she wants it anyway. She says, “That’s surreal.”

“Really?” Neil asks. He grins. It’s very sharp.

“Not really,” she admits.

#the foxhole court #andreil #hdm au #outsider pov #corvus vulpes lupus #order #genus #my fic #amaranth #sin

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