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xlady-saya · 4 years

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i’ve had a love of my own [ch 1]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

Neil pricks himself on the old Palmetto pin as he fixes it to his collar, jabbing the same spot on his thumb he hit just a week before.

He hardly winces at the feeling these days, and for a long time, Matt joked about how he really couldn't go a day without attracting some form of violence. Neil smiles at the thought, because it's far from the truth. He stands by the claim he never asked for fights, simply had no problem finishing them.

"You mean letting me finish them," Andrew would quip, and they'd go back and forth all over again in a never-ending argument. It's so never-ending, Neil goes through the motions of it even now, however many decades later.

This pin tends to start it, since it's the only remotely dangerous thing he owns now. The orange is still bright and obnoxious, with criss crossing Exy racquets in a bright white. He's memorized the raised edges, tilted from old age. The once silver backing has rust spots, but no one ever sees that part. It has its reputation intact, and Neil smiles sardonically.

It's not the only thing that's been worn down, but he likes to think he doesn't look as bad as he could too. Laughing at his own joke, he taps the pin lightly. It's apparently vintage now, according to Allison, since the new Palmetto merch has drifted into neon territory.

Neil is glad he kept his own. It's especially important today, he thinks, that he shows as much fondness for the past as possible. Though, it's not for his sake. His room is nothing but littered with the tokens of the past.

Sighing, he stares fondly out across the living room, the walls haphazardly decorated with old, signed jerseys his friends used to wear. He has one from each of their old teams, but picked his favorites to go up on the wall. The rest sit in storage, ready to be auctioned off whenever he decides living is too much of a chore. Above the mantle, Andrew's racquet from his last team hangs in a shadow box. Then below it, framed pictures which Neil tries to rotate as best he can, some of them shitty ones converted from his phone camera. Mostly, they're of his Foxes at various points in their lives. The only two photos which stay the same are the one he took with Andrew and Kevin at the Olympics, and the snapshot of him and Andrew at the airport in his first year at Palmetto.

If he had to catalog the room, that would barely scratch the surface. He's pages away from mentioning Nicky's terribly made mugs, Betsy's first editions, and cookie tins filled with postcards Katelyn and Aaron sent twenty years ago.

Most of the time, the untidy collection of junk surrounding him is a comfort. It makes the small apartment feel like home, or as close as he can get when he's by himself. He swears some of the items still carry the unique scents of grass stains and floor polish, or Allison's perfume and the glitter glue from Dan and Matt's kids.

When that fails him, the candle he has in every room does the trick to fill in the blanks. Andrew used the same scent for over half their life together: breakfast pancakes. It's sickly sweet and stains the furniture, and Neil loves nothing more than to bury his face in the cushions after a day of having them lit.

These are the things that ground him, that keep him in place, but today he feels fidgety for the first time in years. He shouldn't be, he thinks, laughing to himself. He planned this after all, it's just...

Well, he's never been the best at talking to people.

There's a knock at his door, and the cuckoo clock on the wall (shockingly, that one is his fault) tells him it's right on schedule. Neil sighs, slipping his feet into the white slippers beneath him. "Come in, Sydney."

The nurse on his floor opens the door to his apartment with a smile, too fresh faced and early for this time of day. She’s young, and she's always been a bit cheery for his taste, but she reminds him of Katelyn and he allows it. In the last few years, when Andrew's migraines prevented him from reading, she'd bring him audiobook gift cards.

She smiles bright, and he gives her that look for her to cut it out. At this point, she's less put off by it and more amused. He only tells her to save the smiles because if she doesn't she'll have wrinkles like him years from now. He hates how much he sounds like Allison.

Neil hardly looks in the mirror anymore, but this morning he put in some effort. He looks as perpetually tired as he always looked back in the day, except now his eye bags are accompanied by wrinkles that form their own topographical map on his face.

At least he didn't lose all his hair.

The only thing is his blue eyes are as piercing as ever, so coupled with the grandpa look, he's quite intimidating. Not that he needs to be, but it's nice to feel a little capable when he can barely walk by himself anymore.

"Morning, Mr. Josten," Sydney greets, untucking the wheelchair from behind the door and pushing it over to him. He makes sure to grab Andrew's favorite crochet blanket. He hates messing with it, but he thinks the smell of nicotine it carries will help him today. Refresh his memory.

Neil grumbles, but lets her help him into the chair. He has on his good lounge pants, without holes, and his old Palmetto sweater. "I told you years ago I hate being called that."

"Because it makes you feel old," she jabs, teasing lightly. Even still, she's gentle when she places the blanket over his lap and hands him his glasses. "I have to keep you in line somehow."

"Ha-ha."

As she wheels him out of his room, he starts fidgeting again. He's used to exploring the luxury nursing home on his own time, not because he has somewhere to be. He hasn't had somewhere to be since...well, he hates thinking about that, lest he run into a memory that hurts more than helps.

Today isn't the day for that.

Some other, more able-bodied residents pass by him on foot, waving amicably and knowing better than to expect a wave back. Shockingly, he's well liked here, probably because he doesn't have rowdy grandkids who break the peace. Plus, he's pretty sure some of them are old fans.

Sydney leans down as they pass through the common area and into one of the meeting rooms, the spotless linoleum floor throwing him off as usual. He never would've picked a place so expensive and fancy for himself, but Andrew was always someone with classy tastes. "Ready for today?"

At the reminder, Neil wrings his fingers together. Not advised by his doctor, but fuck that guy. "As ready as I'll ever be," he says, glaring at the glass doors ahead. Sydney laughs, placing him at the end of a large table. The meeting room creeps him out, since it's mostly used for family meetings or will planning appointments. Sound proof, silent.

"Oh hush, you're a famous athlete, I'm sure you've faced worse," she chides, pouring him a glass of water without any ice. Because he's a fiend. Neil rolls his eyes; she has no idea. He's threatened countless reporters before for stepping even a toe out of line, but some recent college grads from an indie publication are making him sweat more than an Exy game. Sydney makes a show of whispering behind her hand. "Besides, I heard from Gabe at the front desk they look terrified, so go easy on them, yes? Can't have another cafeteria incident."

Ugh, not that again.

"You have no witnesses," he waves off, leaning back in his seat while Sydney sets the break in place. Only then is he hit with a wave of calm, fondness even. His quivering hands curl as best they can in the blanket, the ghost of a grip, and he smiles out across the room. Ah, he can't be doing this already, but it's hard to help. He itches for the smell of a cigarette, a press on the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to feel it. "Besides, once they know why they're really here they won't be nearly so stressed. Hell, they might even be disappointed."

He tries not to grimace at that, but for the time he's giving them and the paperwork he made them sign, they're going to sit and listen to his old man ravings all day or so help him--

He feels a hand brush against his, and when he looks Sydney is there. She squeezes his fingers in hers, smile fond and weighed down with a sadness so foreign, he nearly regrets telling her to cut it out. But no, he understands. He's the one who understands the most. She grazes the fabric of the blanket as she pulls away, breathing in the same smoke he can for just a moment. "No, I don't think that's possible."

She doesn't give Neil time to doubt himself, not that he could. He can never doubt anything when it comes to Andrew, no matter how much the blond secretly doubted about himself. Neil always teased him for that, and his living oxymoron ways.

Neil's biggest goal of the day is to piss off Andrew's ghost as much as humanly possible, and his grin is nearly splitting at the thought. Fine, mission active.

"Good luck!" Sydney calls as she leaves the meeting room, and he watches her gesture to his guests once they arrive through the glass doors.

Oh shit, they really do look terrified.

The two interviewers see him through the door and Neil can only assume they shit a brick. They're young, can't be more than a few years out of university, dressed way too professionally for someone as uncaring as Neil. They could've shown up in clown costumes for all he cared, at least he would've gotten a good laugh.

The young man fumbles with the door and his companion rushes forward a little too fast before correcting herself. Jeez.

Neil does his best to hide his laugh, not that he's ever been polite. It's more...

Their terror is Neil's fault. He started declining interviews soon after he retired, letting his name and lifestyle fade into mystery and speculation with the public. Kevin had not been happy about it, since to this day he and Thea are in the public eye, commentating on Exy games, doing talk shows, helping curate museums, blah, blah, blah...

Neil didn't have time for that.

He never thought he'd be okay with slipping back into unknown status after so many years of being seen, being cheered for, but when the time came it was an easy choice. Andrew made it so. Neil had his time to be free, to do whatever he wanted and play the sport he loved. But ultimately, when he no longer could, fucking off to do whatever he wanted with Andrew sounded way better than dealing with reporters and overzealous fans.

Just because he became an unknown though, doesn't mean he faded into obscurity. According to Allison, his life has been quite a hot button issue in the community for over a decade. People want to know where he's been, what he did during those years, how he looks back on the past, everything. It's been obnoxious.

Popular sports magazines and large publications have practically been clawing for a piece of him for years, and he's never given in no matter how many fruit bouquets they sent or how many checks they tried to write him. Though, one almost got him purely because they kept sending gourmet chocolates, and if Andrew was a glutton before, old age only made it worse.

So, Neil Josten is back to being a subject of interest for some reason, someone people want to know everything about. For him to randomly call up a dying indie magazine and offer them full rights to an interview under his specific terms surely threw the sports world into a fucking whirl.

Whatever.

He's going to share what he wants to share. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mr. Jo--" The first reporter clears his throat, passing his notepad and phone over to his other hand before outstretching one to Neil. "Mr. Josten. It's such an honor to meet you, um, wow. I'm Blake, and this is Rayah. We're so grateful for being granted the opportunity to interview you. You're a legend!"

Neil stares at the outstretched hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, and as much as he does know what's expected of him, part of his hesitation is equal parts his disinterest and the fact he doesn't talk to anyone but his remaining family these days. Well, and Sydney.

Blake swallows and drops his hand, surely admonishing himself for his own stupidity.

Rayah saves him. "Um, we really are appreciative, sir," she says, laying out some notepads and setting up her recorder. Old school, Neil appreciates it. It's better than cameras and microphones. "We're still in shock honestly. We were theorizing on why you picked us the entire drive up here!"

"Neil is fine, and don't bother with small talk I know it's not why you're here," he says then, smiling at her words. They both flinch, taken aback. He's not sure why they'd be expecting a Kevin Day type. He has a record for being too blunt and argumentative for his own good. He's right though; they're here for answers, not discussions on how he's doing or what he does for fun in his not so humble nursing home. In much the same vein, he promised honesty, so he'll give it from the start. "I picked you precisely because you're unknown and failing."

They freeze, but they're clearly not Foxes. If they were, they'd immediately get indignant and glare, hold themselves back from punching a helpless old man. Oh, those were the good ol' days.

When Rayah fumbles for a response, a logic, Neil simply shrugs. "I like the underdogs."

He doesn't intend it to be, but it's a tension breaker. The stiffness in the reporters' shoulders deflate with a laugh, and they finally get back to organizing themselves without looking like they want to run for the hills and beg ESPN to take over.

"As your history suggests," Blake jokes, and Neil rewards him with a grin, tapping his Foxes pin.

He doesn't mention the fact Andrew would've never spoken to him had he gone to some trashy magazine, and that Andrew was always a bit of a rebel himself, though he hated to admit to any kind of urge that didn't involve Neil, sweets, or fancy cars.

Neil takes the free moment to wrap his blanket around his shoulders, letting the ingrained smell of ash permeate around him. Much better, he can think so much clearer like this.

As they finish setting up and take their seats across from him, Blake taps his pencil against the rim of his notepad. It looks like he almost wants to launch back into small talk, but thinks better of it when he remembers Neil's words. Considerate, a good listener. Just what Neil needs today.

Blake clears his throat, cutting through the bullshit. "Now, we know you have specific terms for how you want to lead this interview, which we're completely fine with. Wherever you want to start, we'll follow."

And with that, they sit back, unsure but ready to catch whatever morsel of information might fall from Neil's lips. Again, he finds himself fighting a smirk.

Of course, he led these people astray a bit, but he doesn't see the problem with having a little fun before revealing his true intentions.

He nods, pushing down the giddy feeling that always comes with talking about Andrew. Not yet, but soon.

"Hm, I assume you prepared some questions just in case," Neil asks, taking a sip of his water.

Rayah blinks, exchanging a look with Blake. She rifles through her notepad to a page in the middle, scribbled and stained with ink. There are so many questions on it, some of them curve over the others in a painful word twister. "Uh yes but, we didn't think you'd want to answer them," she guesses.

She's correct.

Neil loathes interview questions, because they're predictable. But in this case, he'll let the first one lead him down the road.

Neil relents, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Well you're mostly right, but why don't you ask me your first one?" He offers, and they look positively ecstatic. "That'll get me started."

And once he starts, he doubts he'll be able to stop.

"Sure." Blake clears his throat, making sure his recorder is functioning properly. When he's satisfied, he leans back, mirroring Neil's posture, though the rigidity is still there. If he doesn't lighten up, he's going to have back pains for days. "Now, there have been a lot of milestones in your career as a pro athlete. No one would dream of disputing your skill in the sport, or how you earned any of your countless awards--"

"Flattery," Neil warns, raising a single finger. That's not what he's here for either. In fact, as much as this is his interview, it's not about him at all.

"Right," Blake says with a huff of a laugh. "But surely one of your brightest moments was your historic win at the Olympics. It was talked about for months within the community. Of course, any true Exy fan knows the details of the game, it was only covered by every major publication. So, I guess our question is, what do you most remember about that moment? Was it as monumental for you as it was for Exy fans?"

Ah, a predictable question, but also not a bad place to begin. Neil doesn't fight the edge of the smirk that appears, though he does raise his thumb to swipe at it. It's been a while since he's felt so mischievous, it's so difficult to be, well, difficult when you're being wheeled around all day.

It was a monumental moment for him, though maybe not for the reasons everyone else would think.

"You certainly did your research," he comments, humming as he sits back in thought. He already knows his answer, but he's weak, and the feelings the memory evokes barely need to push him to send him careening off balance. Swept up. "Not sure what I was expecting from people so young, but my apologies for making assumptions."

He's glad they didn't ask the question in the stereotypical format, fishing for ways to brag and make it all about him. When he thinks of that time, as proud as he was, it's not his own praise that comes to mind.

With that in mind, Neil sighs.

"I don't think it was an exaggeration to say that was one of the best days of my life," he admits, and it's the truth. He's not here to lie. Come to think of it, he hasn't lied once since Andrew ran on ahead of him. Smiling, Neil lets the words flow.

"It was important to me, but not all because of the Olympics themselves..."

Neil rarely has time to pay attention in Exy games, as horrible and inefficient as that sounds.

His feet move on their own accord like a well-oiled machine, cogs and steam rushing through him to propel him across the court at record speeds. And they are record speeds.

That's why he's here isn't it? To run, to score.

It had been overwhelming when he first arrived, the sheer size of the Exy court at the Olympics. It's surrounded by flags from all over the world, bright neon signs and sponsorships. The lights at the entrance had been so vibrant, he made the mistake of looking up at them.

Blinding.

All aspects about it are, because as much as Neil knows this is his life, it can't possibly be reality.

The crowd makes the one at the Ravens' stadium seem minuscule, out of its league with seats and aisles that almost climb up to the heavens. The crowd roars and Neil feels every cheer and stomp echo against his bones.

He never thought he'd be here, but despite the gravity of it, he no longer has the time nor want to dwell on it. All that matters is his team, and getting them the gold.

Being with Andrew afterwards...getting to see Wymack smile proudly at Kevin.

Letting Kevin be proud of himself.

And Neil is an Olympic-qualified player, so with all that in mind, he delivers the second best game of his life. Even in the final seconds of the second half, even when he's been body checked so many times the nuts and bolts he imagines inside him must surely be worn and off-kilter, he doesn't stop moving. Everything is instinct, from the force of his steps to the last minute shifts he needs to intercept the ball.

It's not Kevin's perfect strategy, it's not a map or an out of body experience where he can see where every player on the court is.

He has no idea what's going on outside of what's in front of him, no awareness of anything but the immediate threats and a certain beacon, standing in the goal.

And that's the hardest part of it all, not being able to look over at Andrew for even a moment after he scores, because the game is fast and ruthless, and he has twice the energy of anyone on this court.

It's a stupid way to play, if he's really supposed to be Kevin's double. But they all long since established he is far from it. He has his own passion, his own drive, and Kevin trusts Neil with his life on the court.

Probably through anything.

So when he sees the perfect opportunity for a final interception, a chance to get them the last winning goal of the game, he's surprised that it's the one moment where it all comes to a stop. He's never had the experience before; normally his body snaps into action. He's not used to comprehending things until they're said and done.

He thinks his body is still following through though, turning in just the right way, making sure he's lined up.

But Neil is aware of so much more, his eyes train like a predator's on the goal, and he understands. He has a choice.

Choices are a weird luxury now, but he's gotten so used to having the freedom of them, he's forgotten the sheer magnitude they can carry.

His eyes snap to the goal, and then to Kevin. Kevin, who is so much closer, and already looking right at Neil.

And Neil never describes himself as fond towards most people, but he can say it proudly in that moment. This is the Kevin Day he likes to see.

Green eyes stare back, blown wide with a fire that can't be matched by anyone, probably not even his own mother, maybe not even Neil. A true, unadulterated love for this violent, freeing sport. Kevin catches Neil's eyes through his face guard, forehead drenched in sweat but his entire being rings with energy, ready and unwilling to quit until the buzzer sounds.

A Fox, at heart. Neil knows Andrew can see from where he's standing in goal, and Neil knows he's just as satisfied, deep down. It might give him some peace of mind too, to know Kevin kept his spine.

Neil puts all of those emotions into his last movement of the game.

He inclines his head just so, and that's it.

Kevin moves.

As Neil's racquet intercepts the ball from the other team's striker, he can't help but be a bit smug as he takes a powerful step forward. He can hear the painful slide of his shoes against the court floor, the heat of being too close, too exposed.

His legs will surely be shot after this, but no matter.

Kevin Day was always meant to be the greatest player in the history of Exy, the reigning queen, despite the arrogance they'll surely have to hear non-stop about. Fine. It's only fair that Neil help him achieve that goal here, at the biggest stadium in the world.

(By no means the best one, but still).

The clock gets down to five seconds, the beats resounding off the walls of his skull. Neil swings his racquet with such force the strings whistle, and the ball moves in a straight line directly into Kevin's. The other striker has zero time to react, the force of Neil's brutal cut off sending him stumbling. The ball hits Kevin's strings hard, Kevin's grip tightening around his racquet to keep it close to him.

Kevin doesn't hesitate longer than that.

He shoots at the goal in one fluid arch, and scores.

As confident as Neil is in Kevin's aim and skill, he'll admit his stomach swoops. It's a feeling that never truly goes away, much like the instincts that keep him moving. He wouldn't trade it for anything, that millisecond exhilaration before it comes together.

Because well, at one point nothing ever fell into place for him.

In the flash where the ball hits the net, Neil feels the ghost of a key in his palm, reminding him when that changed. The buzzer of the countdown blares, and all that anticipation meets a well-deserved end.

The stadium erupts until not even the buzzer can be heard. There's a swish of plexiglass doors, the sounds of their coach yelling in triumph, but Neil's body is too spent to react.

Neil's heart constricts in his chest as he tries to get air in, but it's impossible. Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it, though he's sure he looks just as breathless as Kevin does, staring at the goal as it lights up. The world moves around him, respecting his moment of privacy when they should be hoisting him up and not allowing him a minute of disbelief. Neil's glad they don't; Kevin deserves to look surprised once in a while.

His teammates pile on each other, clapping him as they pass. A lot of them are still in shock, a few fall to their knees right away, but Neil feels nothing but fulfilled.

He made the right call.

His body sags, stinging, and he feels Andrew's gaze pinning him upright from across the court. It's the only thing that gets him walking, but he wills himself not to look in his boyfriend's direction.

If he does well...nothing else will matter, and there's one thing he has to do.

In a haze, he goes over to Kevin, who turns, sensing him. Neil shakes his head at Kevin's arrogance to this day, because even though Kevin is the one who made this possible for him, who came to him first...

Well, he still lets Neil do all the work. Neil laughs and hugs Kevin fiercely, barely keeping himself upright, and they trade the trembling in their bodies. Kevin drops his racquet, their height difference making them look all the more pathetic. He can hear Andrew's voice already, telling them they're too emotional about a damn sport.

Somehow, that makes Neil even happier, and he leans back as Kevin pries his helmet off, eyes wild and smiling.

Yes, the right choice. Absolutely.

"We did it," Kevin says, but not in disbelief. He had to have known they'd always make it here. "We did it."

Neil squeezes his friend's shoulder and grins, uncaring of what camera catches it. He's too damn happy to care. "Guess we did."

The crowd cheers so loud Neil can't hear more than a faint buzz in his ears, and the sticky scent of gatorade and sweat is an unfortunate addition. The cameras flash and shine obnoxiously through the double plexiglass to bathe them in light and attention.

Yet, with his legs feeling like jelly and his muscles stretched to the limits, there's only one thing he really wants. What he always wants.

Warmth, safety, something to lean on and keep him sheltered from the world before facing it alongside him. Neil hates that before, the only thing he yearned for was to play Exy. He thought that was bad.

This is so much worse.

Biting his lip, Neil turns to where Andrew is standing in the goal, already looking at him from across the court. And Andrew, with all his control, keeps himself planted there. Neil's breathing hiccups loudly, and Kevin's probably the only one who hears it over the cacophony.

Neil doesn't think he can cry anymore, but his eyes tighten up, he has to blink the pain away.

Neil wonders if Andrew's gripping his racquet hard enough to damage it, if he's digging his heels into the ground like Neil is.

Neil swallows down the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he hates the cameras more than usual; he's torn between wanting them to vanish completely, or wishing they paid as much attention to Andrew, because god, he's earned it.

Neil digs his heels in harder.

I want to be with you.

It's such a simple string of thought; it has crossed his mind so many times before, but never has the urge hurt so much. It has nothing to do with all he's worked for, with the fame and recognition this win will bring him. It's just Andrew.

He hasn't had a knife to his skin in years, but this reminds him of the piercing of flesh, lighting his nerves on end and sending him towards the source of his relief, his contentment.

Andrew played so well, so well, not just here. He worked his way through the pros until he got to Neil, worked his ass off for his reputation. He qualified with the rest of them to be here.

And tonight, he blocked almost every shot at his goal.

Neil closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down but he can't. This is one of the best moments of his life. If he can't share it with Andrew to the fullest, what was the point of everything in his past?

They're not out. That's the problem, he knows, as much as he doesn't give a single fuck. No one outside their family and management knows anything about them, apart from some tabloid rumors about their intense dislike of one another. If that doesn't prove how clueless the media is, Neil doesn't know what does.

And as much as they value privacy, as much as their peaceful bubble is enough, it's moments like these where Neil wants to take and show no matter the consequences.

He looks to Kevin, unsure. It's always been him, the one who warned them about the backlash they'd face despite his acceptance of their relationship years ago.

Neil expects the same thing here: the subtle shake of Kevin's head, the concern in his eyes for their careers and future. It used to piss Neil off to no end, but Kevin communicates all emotion through Exy, even concern. Neil's learned to read between those infuriating lines. The importance of career translates to 'without your career, there is no you.' Sometimes he forgets he's not entirely free.

And if he weren't around, then Andrew...

'You can't leave him.'

And so, knowing Kevin's language, Neil stayed in line, and he expects that same advice today. To his surprise though, it never comes. Kevin is looking at him, tired smile firmly in place as he nudges a shoulder in Andrew's direction. Neil's mouth falls open, and yes, he's convinced now. It's a dream, it's all one big dream. Except--

Kevin shakes his head. It's not resigned, or worried. He's just happy for them both. He pushes Neil away, straightening his back in preparation for his fans. Royal snob. "Go on already. You guys are gross."

And despite the laugh that falls from his mouth, Neil's breathing stutters, and he hadn't realized how wound up he truly was until it happens. His lungs fill with air and he throws his racquet to the ground. His self-control is poor, they all know that. Encouragement is all he needs to break him and send him where he belongs.

He takes off in a full sprint towards Andrew as the rest of his teammates crowd Kevin, looking after Neil in confusion.

Huh, so his muscles still work after all. The tendons are on fire, but it's the least of his concerns. He runs like his life depends on it again, faster than he ran during that whole game.

And to Neil's absolute delight, Andrew's body language screams 'finally.'

The blond takes a step forward, throwing his racquet to the side like it's worthless. Oh. Andrew's bracing to catch him, and Neil laughs at the realization as he throws off his helmet. One day he'll actually make Andrew fall over, but for now he enjoys the strength.

He jumps into Andrew's arms effortlessly, feels calloused hands wrap around his waist as Neil reaches for the clips of Andrew's helmet. Despite knowing the barrier is there as he fumbles with it, he leans forward, lips grazing the metal guard. Andrew huffs, and Neil claws until the helmet clatters to the floor. He throws it a bit far, and it hits the goal post with a clang, but he doesn't care in the moment. If all eyes are on them now, he can't feel them. They're in a vacuum, a side effect of being so taken with Andrew at times. Unaware, vulnerable. The rush of sound from before goes dead around them. His fingertips can feel overheated skin, can trace the barely-there freckles on Andrew's face.

Andrew isn't in the mood to let Neil admire today.

Neil barely gets to see the color in Andrew's eyes before the goalie's hand grips in between Neil's shoulder blades, pulling him down.

It reminds him of their first kiss; Neil catches Andrew's lips and, as if not believing they're real, that something could feel so wonderful, he pulls back. His eyes widen, the first hit of a drug. He breaks the kiss only to dive right back in, uncoordinated but so sure of himself. And he doesn't get how, but Andrew smells the same as back then. Less like cigarettes, but the same smell of leather and earthiness. Neil doesn't read nearly as much as Andrew does to have the capability of describing it, but it's refreshing, like soil after the rain. Through the sweat and exhaustion, Neil would know him anywhere.

Andrew opens his mouth for him first, breath hot but movements predictable. Neil will tease him later for that. You're getting old. Because the dance is so familiar, the way Andrew pushes Neil's tongue back first. 'Come and get me.'

Neil obliges every single time, because he can't back down from a challenge, and maybe he's getting old too.

Neil knows the kiss can't last forever, especially not here, but he allows himself to pretend it's not the case. Andrew hums into him, and Neil's hands feel all the vibrations from where his hand slips down to Andrew's throat. It's bared completely for him, and Neil gives a little squeeze.

He sighs into Andrew's mouth when his boyfriend's eyes open to glare at him, pulling back before kissing Neil again, and then one more time, and maybe just once...

One more, Neil thinks, brushing his lips against Andrew's so lightly they stick for a moment, and he licks his own slowly when he pulls back for the final time. His heart beats in his ribcage, or maybe that's the pounding of the reporters' feet as they rush through the stadium, he's not sure.

Again, it's always best for him to not look at Andrew if he's supposed to be doing something else, because in that moment, the blond has all Neil's attention.

They're already pressed chest to chest, but Andrew squeezes tighter, almost painful, keeping Neil there through the flashing of cameras and shocked cheers.

And while Andrew's expression gives nothing away for the public, it speaks volumes to Neil.

Neil didn't know what old meant back then, now that his legs give out after a good walk or his spine aches under the weight of nothing.

But they were predictable, that much was true.

Neil isn't looking at the reporters anymore, too focused on trying to weave the fraying threads of the blanket back into place. From their silence, he can guess they're as shocked as he expected them to be.

Unaffected, Neil reaches over for his water, taking a sip as he confronts their slack jaws and wide eyes.

Now, that might have been a bit unfair of him as well, to jump into such a blatant romantic recollection about Andrew. Again, Neil never took interviews, rarely took questions, but the subject of his relationship with Andrew was especially off limits for decades. What they had was theirs, and only theirs, even after outing themselves that day.

People naturally tried to pry, tried to dig up their past in hopes of justifying what they saw as a nonsensical relationship or gossip fuel.

Neil made them fear for their lives after that.

He eviscerated publications, reporters, top sports officials, talk shows hosts, pretty much whoever he needed to. Anything to keep Andrew's name out of their mouths. A lot of them sealed their place in the land of irrelevancy, media outlets were slammed by a combination of their fans, and Kevin's too, once he stood up in support.

Andrew always hated it, Neil's desperate need to protect him from words that no longer phased him, but Neil didn't care. It was one of the only things they fought about in their adult years.

It worked though; soon, all the major outlets aside from the tabloids stopped talking about it, knowing mentioning it in any way that wasn't positive or neutral would land them in a ton of hot water.

Even those online sources who refused to let up eventually fizzed out from lack of material; they tried their best to be nosy, but pretty much got nothing but some rare paparazzi photos a few times a year of them kissing in the park or on a date.

In short, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you don't talk to Neil Josten about Andrew Minyard unless you have nothing but good things to say, and a lot of people are too chicken shit to take the risk and potentially insult him. That's the only disappointing thing, none of them have a shred of courage. Neil really would talk all day about Andrew if people just approached it correctly.

Not that Andrew would've allowed it when he was alive.

Take that.

Despite all the fear Neil instilled in the media, it never stopped the other famous Foxes from talking about how gooey and devoted he and Andrew were, but Neil let that slide.

The things he does for family.

So it makes sense that these reporters seemed to have forgotten Andrew's importance at all, another offense. Not just because he was the best goalie in Exy history, but because Neil was first and foremost, Andrew's.

Blake's mouth opens and closes, pen dangling precariously from his hand. "Are...are we allowed to ask about Andrew?"

Blake even flinches after he asks it, afraid that perhaps it's only okay for Neil to bring up.

If you only knew.

Neil laughs, too relaxed to hold back anymore. The reporters stare, exchanging nervous glances with excitement tingling below the surface.

Yes, he supposes details about his relationship with Andrew are more secretive and sought after than even Neil's opinions. The reporters weren't even going to try.

But now, there's morsels of information dangling in front of them, and Neil need only give them permission. It's their lucky day.

Neil's smile fades into something gentler, wistful. It's the closest he gets now, to how he looked at Andrew. But it's still different, because that expression...

Well, Andrew is gone. What more is there to say?

Neil leans back, wringing his hands softly. "I guess it's only fair that I tell you the real reason I accepted this interview."

The reporters lean forward, holding their breath, but Neil doesn't feel like making them wait. It's all about Andrew now, like he wanted it to be. "I want to talk about Andrew, plain and simple."

Except when it's not.

Their relationship was anything but simple but Neil cherished each memory, and he wants to speak them aloud so no one forgets. He wants everyone to know how important this person was to him, so when he's gone and can't defend them, people can't speculate or taint it with their unasked for opinions.

"I've never had the opportunity to really reminisce about Andrew, not even with my family," Neil admits. He and Aaron and Katelyn would sit around the fireplace at their home sometimes, telling stories, or Kevin would send him old pictures or clips of Andrew playing. But never the intimate details, never the raw, and at times complicated feelings. "It never felt right, even after he was gone. I wanted to keep it close still, so I wouldn't betray Andrew's trust."

Neil takes a deep breath, and it shakes his small frame, a cough escaping his lungs. His voice is rough, but no less sure when he continues. "But I know now what he'd say to that. That I couldn't, even if my dumb Exy brain tried really hard."

But he'd never.

He smiles, wiping his eyes when they aren't even wet. That's another thing he misunderstood back then. Neil thought he couldn't cry, but he's sure today he'll prove his younger self wrong.

Rayah and Blake stay silent through all of Neil's pauses, and the respect means more than he can say. Andrew would approve, he'd be okay with Neil's choice. That's what matters most, he thinks.

"For once I just want everyone to know how I felt, I want to tell you everything as I saw and felt it, so you can tell everyone else," Neil says, and hopes they can read between the lines for the rest. Ultimately, when he's dead he'll be nothing but bones in the dirt, his legacy won't mean much in the long run. But...if nothing else, he wants this to remain, for as long as it can.

He never cared before about it, but he guesses age really can put a new perspective on things. Neil sighs, and taps the table with his finger for lack of anything better to do. When he looks back up, he has their undivided attention, Rayah's brown eyes shining with unshed emotion. None of that, not yet. "Anyways, now that you know I misled you, I hope you're still alright with listening to me ramble for the next few hours."

If not, they can kindly fuck off, but Neil has his suspicions at this point that they'll stick around. As much as Neil prides himself on reading people's intentions well, he's quite horrible at reading people's feelings. But maybe he's improved in that arena too.

A price for everything, he thinks ruefully, reminding himself there's a break in between this session for him to take his pain pills.

Eventually, it's Rayah who stutters a response. "Of course it's alright! We're so honored! And not just in the...bullshit way."

She closes her mouth immediately after at the unprofessionalism of it, but it only makes Neil feel more at ease. He smirks, satisfied. "Noted."

"Mr. Jo--Neil, we really are happy to write about you and Andrew but I have to admit," Blake says, flipping through his notepad with a tight look on his face. "The questions we did prepare as backup don't exactly lend themselves to anything about your life with Andrew."

It's precisely why Neil stated he'd mostly be doing the talking initially, but their first test question actually did end up helping move him along, so...

Neil shrugs, gesturing to the notebook with fierce determination.

These people are about to learn...

He can make anything about Andrew.

When he smiles at the two of them again, they must feel it deep down. They return it tenfold, and then Rayah clicks her pen.

And with the pleasantries out of the way, Neil opens up to everything he's been keeping locked away.

"Try me."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

You’ll never walk alone

Wszystkiego najlepszego z okazji urodzin !!!!

I said it before in my previous post (here), but I’ll say it one million times again:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! You’re one of my closest friends here and I love you so so so much!!

I know we’re living a hard, difficult world right now, but I hope you can find a way to enjoy your Birthday the way you deserve it!

Warnings: SMUT (that I know of, but I’m sure someone who’s really motivated can find something else 🤷🏽‍♀️.)

A/N: This is an AU but it takes place somewhere during the social season.

I hope this covers everything you were asking for. It has a slow burn, your favorite soccer team and a bit of Dublin because I know how much you were looking forward to go. DON’T WORRY, YOU’LL GO BEFORE YOU KNOW IT!

Word count: Euh… (coughs nervously) You asked for a slow burn so 7,000 words… `

PERMATAG: @burnsoslow @pedudley @mskaneko

Thank you to to the beautiful birthday girl ( @mskaneko ) for the beautiful edit in the mood board. To @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore for beta reading, and to @pedudley for reading and for the incredible mood board that closes this fic.

Alexis snuck out of the palace and called an Uber that took her to the local Irish pub in less than fifteen minutes.

The bar was a cozy place with large wooden panels, solid counters and Irish music.

She was about to sit on one of the stools when she felt someone’s eyes behind her, staring at her. She turned her head and there he was, Drake Walker sitting in a booth with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He raised his glass towards her, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat when he had seen her.

After ordering a pint, she sat next to him with her usual perky attitude. “What are you doing out of you cabin in the woods, Walker?”

He squinted at her “The real question is what are you doing here, O’Brien? Out of the palace without a guard.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to watch the match, and I’m staying. You can take me back to the palace as soon as Barcelona kicks Liverpool’s ass”

God, she was exasperating. “Of course, you would be a Barcelona’s fanatic.”

“You mean the best club in the world?” She took off her leather jacket, she was wearing the famous blue and scarlet Barcelona’s shirt.

He growled. “You can’t sit with me wearing that.”

She gave him a flirtatious look. “Would you prefer if I took it off?”

Sometimes, he swore she was actively trying to torture him. He took her chin with his fingers fixing his piercing eyes on hers.

“You don’t want to play that game with me, O’Brien.” He said in a hoarse voice.

She swallowed hard, her heart beating furiously in her chest. When he finally tore his eyes away from her, she took a long sip of beer.

After a few silent minutes, she spoke. “I can’t believe you’re actually rooting for Liverpool. They haven’t won a Champions league in thirteen years.”

He growled. “I’m so sure we’re beating Barcelona tonight, that I bought tickets for the second leg.”

She sat on the booth cross-legged hugging a cushion. “You seem awfully confident that your team, a team that hasn’t win in ages, is going to beat the best team there is.” She gave him a confident smile. “Want to bet?”

“The best team…?” He shook his head. “What do you want to bet?”

“If Barcelona wins tonight, you give me your semi-final tickets.”

He raised his hands shocked. “Are you crazy, do you know how much I paid for those tickets?”

She reached for his arm and squeezed it with a fake empathic expression on her face. “Don’t worry, Drake if I were rooting for such losers, I wouldn’t want to bet the tickets either.”

He considered her proposal for a minute, well aware that she was provoking him on purpose, but he just couldn’t back out when she was challenging him. “I’m in, but if you lose you have to get me tickets for next year’s matches. All the matches.” He saw her stunned expression, so he added irritated. “You’ll be queen next year O’Brien, it’d be easy for you to get them.”

She didn’t know why but it really bothered her that he would assume she was going to accept Liam’s proposal. She reached for his hand anyway. “Deal, Walker.”

For the next two hours they sat next to each other, drinking and bickering playfully. In the halftime he challenged her to a game of darts, she wasn’t bad at all, and she certainly looked extremely cute when she concentrated but he beat her easily, reaching 501 points in ten minutes.

However, at the end of the second half of the match, he was seriously pissed, not only he had lost his precious semi-final tickets, but he also had to put up with her cocky attitude while she celebrated Barcelona’s victory.

After a while of singing and cheering with a group of Spaniards, she came back to the table, ecstatic, and extended her hand towards him pointing at her palm. “The tickets, Walker.”

He groaned “Do you think I carry them with me all the time, O’Brien? I’ll give them to you at the palace.”

She laughed truly enjoying her victory. “So grumpy! I didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Drake. I’ll go get another pint. What are you drinking?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dalmore, fifteen years. Just tell them to put it on my tab. I come here often.”

She mimicked a fake surprise. “That’s so shocking!”

He laughed in spite of himself. She added playfully. “And Dalmore, eh? Being a veterinarian definitely pays.”

He smirked shrugging “I don’t need much, O’Brien, but I definitely need good whiskey. How do you know Dalmore?”

“My grandpa loved whiskey. Especially that one.” Her eyes watered thinking about her grandfather but she shook her head to chase the tears.

Drake saw her eyes and his heart tightened; he raised his hand to stroke her cheek, but squeezed her shoulder instead, pouring his eyes into hers to make her feel comforted without words.

It worked because she gave him a small smile, he had rolled his sleeves, so she rubbed his forearm with her fingers softly, almost tenderly, making him crazy. Why did she have to make it so fucking difficult being close to her? He stood up.

“We better leave, Obrien. It’s late and tomorrow we have to travel to Applewood.”

She didn’t want the night to end. For a minute she allowed herself to think about the life she would have had with Drake if they were a couple, if she had met him alone. If she hadn’t been so stupid to be blindsided by Liam’s charm, but when he abruptly stood up, she understood. He didn’t feel the same about her. She had to forget her stupid crush and move on.

They drove back in silence, both of them embarrassed, both of them hurt and filled with unspoken feelings.

The next day, Alexis felt much better. She had drunk too much the previous night and the alcohol had put crazy ideas in her head. It was clear that Drake only saw her as an annoying friend, so she would do the same.

Liam was different, even if the little spark that had initiated at the Statue of Liberty hadn’t become the fire she was hoping for, he was there for her. He had been clear about his feelings for her. Maybe love wasn’t the crazy passion she thought. Maybe love was calm, peaceful and reliable.

Or maybe she just needed to think for a few days, put some distance between her and that stupid competition. She thought about the football tickets she had won. She was definitely going to that semi-final, Drake, Liam and royal court be damned.

She knew Liam would be having breakfast in the main hall, so she went looking for him. She entered the hall and stopped in her tracks. Liam was having breakfast, but he wasn’t alone.

She cleared her throat. “Hi guys!”

Liam’s face lit up seeing her. “Lady Alexis. Good morning.”

Drake gestured a quick hello with his hand and turned back to reading his paper.

Mr. Polite as usual. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Li. I want to leave the court for a few days. I’m going to England for the semi-finals of the Champions league”

Liam stopped eating and looked at her puzzled. “That’s in two weeks from now, Alexis. The coronation is in less than three weeks. I would’ve expected that you wanted to be here.”

“Yes! Of course, Li. It’s only for a couple days. England is four hours away. I just want to watch the match. It’s… important for me”

Liam was uncomfortable, he didn’t want her to leave. Even if he couldn’t tell her yet, he had decided he was going to choose her as his queen. And her place was there with him not at some dumb football competition. “Where did you even get the tickets?”

Drake took his head out of the paper. “we made a bet and she won them from me.”

Liam grinned “I told you Liverpool was going to lose, Drake. You have to pick a winner’s team.” He turned to Alexis, speaking to her in a soft voice. “As a suitor and especially as the woman I care about, I-.”

Drake stood up so fast, he almost spilled his coffee. “I don’t think I should be part of this conversation.”

Liam raised his hand. “Actually, Drake, yes. Stay. I was going to say that I care very deeply about you, Alexis. I can’t let you go alone because you’re a member of the royal court, you’ll need protection. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any guards right now, but if Drake accepts, he can go with you. He has trained with Bastien plenty of times and can assure your protection.”

Drake couldn’t allow that. Last night, he had barely slept thinking about her. Two days abroad and he’d go crazy. “I can’t. I have a lot of things planned for that week, Li. I’m sorry.”

Liam squinted at him, puzzled. “You were going to go to the semi-finals anyway, that’s why you bought the tickets.”

Fuck! “Yes, but as Alexis won them, I made new appointments.” He was a terrible liar.

Alexis saw through it. “I don’t need a glorified, grumpy baby-sitter, Liam. Thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry, Alexis, but you’re under the crown’s protection until the end of the Social season. I can’t let you go without a guard; it would be terribly irresponsible from me.” He had made up his mind, and she had to start to get used to the fact that a future queen had responsibilities and responded to him.

Alexis was fuming, she was seriously considering quitting her role as a suitor when Drake spoke seeing how much she wanted to go. “It’s fine, I’ll go with her.” He smirked at her “In exchange of the other ticket.”

Liam started to regret his offer. “I really think it’s better if you stay here, lady Alexis.”

She shook her head. She was going to go, no matter what and as she didn’t need the second ticket anyway, she accepted, strangely happy. “The second ticket is yours, Drake! I have to go get ready to bake an apple pie for the competition.” Before leaving the room, she turned to grin at Drake. “And thank you.” He felt his heart warming up with her smile.

After breakfast, Drake went to the stables. He needed a good day of intense work to forget the stupidest deal he had ever accepted.

It was already difficult to be around her and pretend to be only her friend when they were surrounded by the other suitors and the madness of the social season. Now, he was going to have her all for himself for two days. He shook his head at his own stupidity. She wasn’t there for him and she never would be. She was there vying for Liam’s hand. Liam, his best friend the king. The same man offering her a whole kingdom.

The truth was that Drake had never been jealous of Liam before. He had a good life, a life he enjoyed. He was passionate about his job and excelled at it. He was free to go fishing, hiking or drink a whiskey in a pub whenever he wanted. It was a life that he had been able to choose for himself unlike Liam who would have to lead the imposed life of a king. So, no, he had never been jealous of his best friend before Alexis O’Brien had arrived in the court. And now, every time Liam so much as looked at her, he wanted to punch him in the face. He definitely shouldn’t have accepted to take her to Liverpool.

Shaking his head, he put on his white coat and his rubber boots and went to check up on Mirabelle.

The next few days he tried to avoid her as much as he could, he had convinced himself that he only needed a little distance, a little space and whatever he was feeling, would naturally go away and they would be able to go together to Liverpool as friends.

A few nights before leaving, he saw her coming out of the palace and walk towards the maze only dressed in a big sweater and some sort of pajama shorts. He debated with himself, but in an impulse, he decided to go after her, just to make sure she was fine.

When he approached the center of the maze, he saw her, and his heart tugged. She was sitting on a bench with her knees up, her head buried in them, clearly crying. He sat next to her, and silently rubbed her back, soothing her. Slowly her sobs stopped, he leaned towards her and cupped her face turning her face to him.

“Do you want to talk about it, Lexie?”

Her heart jumped in her chest. He had never called her anything else besides O’Brien before. She knew she could open up to him. “My grandfather, Noah, died exactly one year ago of a heart attack. I really miss him.”

“I’m sorry, O’Brien” his heart broke seeing her so sad “Come here.” He opened his arms and she snuggled against him.

“He and granny practically raised me. He arrived in the States when he was twenty-two years old, but he never lost his accent” She smiled. “He used to call me his little ‘stor’. It means treasure in Irish... He’s …was the bravest man, I’ve ever met.”

He smiled down at her and brushed her cheek with his thumb to wipe a falling tear. “And most importantly he loved Dalmore whiskey.”

She laughed through her tears. “Yes, almost as much as he loved granny. His dream was to come back to Dublin with me and show me Trinity College where he went to school. He said that I would love the library there.” She brushed another tear. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Shh, I got you, it’s okay. It’s okay, O’Brien” He hugged her tighter “You never have to apologize to me for how you feel.” He had never held her so closely. Her cherry scent was intoxicating, “I always be here for you. I promise.”

She looked at him hurt. “Like you had been these past weeks?”

He shook his head. “I’m just giving you and Liam some space, O’Brien. We’re only friends and he deserves you”

She stood up trembling with fury. “I’m not a fucking prize either of you gets because you deserve it. Don’t you want to be with me?” He didn’t answer, so she insisted. “I think you feel something for me, Drake.” She waited for an answer that never came, he couldn’t tell her anything without betraying his best friend, plus, she was sad and confused and he wasn’t going to take advantage of it. “Got it. See you at the plane. Good night.” She stormed out leaving Drake more confused than ever.

Three days later, they were ready to leave for Liverpool, Liam had insisted in lending them his private plane so they could come back directly after the match. He wanted her back fast. Drake had required to leave for Liverpool one day earlier because he had business to attend at Kentwood stables, one of Liam’s horse dealers in England.

Alexis installed herself in one of the leather seats when she saw Drake talk to the pilot.

“What was that about, Drake?”

He shrugged “I have no idea what you’re talking about, O’Brien.” He took out a deck of cards from his bag. “Poker?” He wiggled his eyebrows adorably.

She grinned mischievously. “If you don’t mind losing.”

He observed her expression and smirked, she seemed relaxed and happy as he hadn’t seen in her for a long time.

They played the whole flight to Liverpool, teasing each other, Drake was great at poker, but Alexis used to play all the time in college, so they won two games each.

He smiled cockily. “Don’t worry, O’Brien. I’ll beat you later, I was just warming up”

She rolled her eyes playfully “Yeah, suuure.”

When they got off the plane, she saw Drake talking to the pilot again. She waited with her bag for a car to pick them up from the private tarmac, but Drake shook his head.

“Come on, O’Brien. We need to catch a bus to go to the city center.”

She was happy to do something normal for once, but it was unusual. “No car to pick us up?”

He beamed, he didn’t do it often but when he did he looked so handsome it actually made her knees weak. “Not today, come on”

She followed him through the terminal, not paying much attention. When they exited the building, she turned her head and saw a big sign on the top the airport:

“Welcome to Dublin”

She stopped in her tracks, incapable to move for a second. Drake stood next to her waiting for her reaction.

When she finally spoke, she had a small lump in her throat. “How did you do? I- d” Without thinking about it, she threw her arms around his neck pulling him for a hug. He pulled her against him too, allowing himself to enjoy a few seconds of closeness with her, inhaling her shampoo, feeling her against him. When she pulled away her eyes were brighter than usual “Thank you Drake.”

His raised his hands. “Hey, I have entirely selfish motives. A friend told me about this distillery where they supposedly have great whiskey.”

They went to the B&B where Drake had booked two rooms, a cozy, small place called The Blackrock. It was perfect, the lobby was full of books with a lit fireplace and the lady at the reception was warm and kind.

Before leaving, Alexis decided to change her clothes, she had woken up too early and had lazily thrown a pair of jeans and Converses on.

It was a sunny day in May, but they were in Dublin and it was relatively cold. She decided to wear a red, short sweater dress with a V neck, a pair of tights and her Doc Martens. She put on some black eyeliner, a touch of gloss, and sprayed her Lost Cherry perfume, on her wrists and neck. She felt giddy and nervous to spend the day with him. After a last look in the mirror she took her leather jacket and went downstairs.

She waited at the lobby sitting next to the fireplace, Drake had told her that he needed to make some calls to the Veterinary clinic at the Palace. It made her smile how much he loved his job. How much he cared about it.

Drake saw her as soon as he came down the stairs but waited for her to see him, before announcing himself. At the risk of sounding like a stalker, he wanted to watch her for a few seconds, he spent so much time trying to hide whatever it was she stirred up in him that he never let himself just admire her. She was incredibly beautiful, but it was the energy she irradiated that made his heart stop every time he looked at her. He shook his head; he was quickly approaching a very dangerous territory.

He cleared his throat “I see you’re warming up by the fire.”

She grinned. A true smile, just for him. “I was waiting for you, but I’m ready to go. Do you have anything planned?”

He gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I have some things in mind. Do you trust me?”

She couldn’t help the earnest look in her eyes, when she answered. “Totally.”

They decided to walk, it was a long stroll, but they wanted to make the most of their time there. She pulled her camera out of her huge handbag and took pictures of everything she could. She loved the vibe of the city open and colorful. Everyone seemed relaxed and stress free. Even Drake. She succeeded to take two shots of him when he wasn’t looking.

He knew he only had two days with her. He was trying really hard to keep his thoughts at bay but just the way she looked at everything and the joy she transpired while they explored the city was enough to make him forget his good resolutions.

He remembered the conversation he had had with Liam the day before. They had been drinking at his office when Liam had suddenly told him that he regretted having authorized the trip.

“What do you mean?

“I thought you were my friend, and maybe you still are, but I saw you in the maze last night, Drake. You were holding her.” Seeing that his friend was about to talk, he raised his hand “Just remember who she belongs to.”

Drake felt a rush of anger, his fists immediately balling. “She doesn’t belong to anyone, Liam. She can do whatever she wants. Last night she was sad, that’s all.”

“It may be, but just in case, remember that she’s here for me. She deserves the world, she deserves to be a queen, Drake. My queen.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Liam was right, she deserved the world and more, so he’d have to settle with being his friend.

They had been walking more than an hour, when they saw an imposing grey building. She screamed with excitement, recognizing it immediately. Her grandfather had showed her hundreds of pictures of it while he talked about his younger years in Dublin.

He was touched to see her eyes watering at its sight but didn’t dare to do anything else but stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Aww, O’Brien. Come on, let’s see that library”

They were both amazed as soon as they entered the famous Long Room. It was majestic. The sight was imposing, high wooden ceilings and walls, millions of ancient books covering the shelves, and infinite rows of marble busts honoring the greatest writers and philosophers of history.

They looked together for Jonathan Swift, Noah’s favorite writer, while Alexis told him anecdotes of her childhood, and how he used to read her ‘Gulliver’s travels’ before bed. She seemed nostalgic but happy to remember him.

“He was a great man, O’Brien. And even if I didn’t know him, I’m sure he would be very proud of you.”

She sighed. “I don’t know… I think he definitely would’ve disapproved of the idea of me competing for a prince’s hand.”

Drake looked at her intently trying to figure out how she felt about it, he knew she was in love with Liam, but at the same time he couldn’t deny that there was something else going on between the two of them, something undefined and powerful.

After seeing the Book of Kells, they spent the rest of the day exploring the city. They took pictures next to Molly Malone, ordered a Fish and chips at Presto’s, and got lost in the Jaime’s Joyce museum.

Alexis bought a colorful painting portraying the famous Dublin doors, and Drake got his wish of visiting the Roe & Coe Distillery where he felt like a little boy in a candy store. It was a perfect day. Both of them yearned for it to last, but neither of them took a step towards the other.

They want out of the distillery slightly drunk, laughing like crazy. “Last stop ‘The workman’s bar’, O’Brien. Maxwell recommended it.” He grinned, she had never seen him so happy, so relaxed. What she’do to kiss those dimples. “I’m dying to show you the Temple Bar area. Come on!” He added when he saw she was lost in her thoughts.

The pub was packed, they had trouble finding a table but after a few minutes they found one close to the stage.

He asked for their drinks, two double whiskeys. She gulped hers.

“Easy O’Brien, this is not a competition” He beamed, again, she was almost getting used to it.

She looked at him with fire in her eyes. “I can do whatever I want tonight. And I want to drink. Oh, I know! Let’s play a drinking game!” She beamed.

“You want to play a drinking game, against me O’Brien?” He arched his brows “Are you sure?”

She gave him a devilishly smile, just what he needed to go insane. “I’m not playing, Walker, I’m winning”

He chuckled “You’re such a cocky ass. Let’s see that” His phone rang, it was the clinic. “Just a sec, O’Brien. I’ll take this outside.”

When he came back, he saw her talking with one of the guys from the table next to hers. He cut the distance between them as fast as he could. When the guy saw Drake sit next to her clearly angry, he babbled a quick good night and left as fast as he could.

She witnessed his behavior extremely annoyed. He had been clear, he only wanted to be her friend. So why did he behave like that?

“What the fuck, Drake? Why are you so angry?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Are you jealous?”

He was tired too, tired of wanting her so badly, tired of months watching her from the distance, tired of pretending he felt nothing for her, when he couldn’t think about anything else. He fixed his eyes on her. “Like crazy.”

She leaned to kiss him, but Liam was in there, present between the two of them. He cupped her face. “We can’t O’Brien. You love him, I know that.”

She shook her head. How was it possible that someone that knew her so perfectly well, that could almost see through her soul was so incapable of reading her true feelings. “Forget it, Drake. It’s fine.”

He heard the hurt in her voice and started to wonder if maybe, only maybe, she felt…something for him.

They sat in silence until someone stood up on the stage and began to sing ‘Hey, Jude’ with a voice way off key.

“Fucking Maxwell, he recommeneded a karaoke bar!” He groaned but after a few more seconds of the singer torturing The Beatles they burst into laughs easing the tension. They played several games and talked about their childhoods and years of college. After several singers, the host of the evening called Alexis’s name.

She chuckled at his puzzled expression. “I wrote my name in the list when I went to the bathroom.” She stood up and went to the stage.

For the hundredth time that day, his mouth went dry just looking at her. She was so incredibly sexy that he couldn’t think straight. The red of her dress illuminated her face, making her black eyes darker, her full lips irresistible. The dress wasn’t tight but it was short so he could admire her long legs and thanks to the V neck, part of her cleavage. He was sure no one at that pub had seen anyone more beautiful or sexy than her. He smirked when the song started. She had chosen Marvin Gaye by Charlie Puth.

She began to slowly sway her hips with the rhythm of the song and started singing. He shook his head; Not only was she softly dancing, which was enough to push him over the edge, but he had heard her sing before and knew he was doomed. She had a low voice, sultry, soft. Like a moan.

We got this king size to ourselves

Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's karma sutra show and tell

She was slowly moving her hips and looking at him fixedly as she sang. He stared back, his black eyes looking at her so intently she felt like she was going to combust. He leaned against his seat, with the tumbler in his hand, licking his lips, savoring the moment as much as she was, letting his eyes tell her all the things he wanted to do to her.

You got to give it up to me

I'm screaming mercy, mercy please Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

She had chosen that song on purpose. Every time he heard her sing for mercy, he felt a twitch in his pants. Every time she moved her hips asking him to get lost with her until dawn, he was tempted to go on stage, take her and fuck her right there in the bathroom.

The applause took him out of his trance. He saw her approaching the table where they were seated. Fuck, he didn’t give a damn anymore, he wanted her, painfully, agonizingly. He left the money for the drinks on the table and intercepted her on her way to the table. He gripped her hand and led her outside. He had called an Uber but they had to wait for it. Except that Drake couldn’t wait another moment, he pressed her against the first wall he found and leaned towards her; whispering in her ear. “What are you doing, O’Brien? I told you not to play those games with me.”

She smiled biting her lip, and then shrugged “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He growled burying his nose in her neck, softly smelling her cherry scent; making her shiver “Fuck! You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Her heart couldn’t have beat faster. She felt like it was going to go out of her chest.

He fixed his eyes on her “If you want to scream for mercy, Lexie” He brushed her neck with his fingers, as his other hand stroked the small of her back and he kissed her earlobe. “I’ll make you scream all night.”

She was physically incapable to form words, so she nodded. A nod. All it took was soft movement of her head and hell broke loose. He placed his hand on her back and pulled her against him crashing his mouth with hers, caressing her face. He nipped her lips and let his hands wander through her body, desperate, impatient.

They arrived at her room fifteen minutes later, after a painfully long Uber ride.

She tried to open the door, but Drake was behind her, his arm around her waist, his lips on the nape of his neck. “Drake, god!”

Finally, she opened the door, and they almost stumbled inside. He was still behind her, still ravaging her neck. He took her by her waist and in easy movement turned her face to him kissing her lips again. They were better than he had imagined, with a sweet taste, soft and tender at his contact. He scooped her in his arms and took her to the bed. He stopped for a second to look at her. His goddess, gorgeous, with swollen lips and messy hair.

He smiled down on her “Are you sure you want this, O’Brien?” She nodded, lost in the sandalwood.

“I didn’t hear anything, Lexie”

“Yes, I’m sure” she panted.

He locked eyes with her as he put a strand of hair behind her ear “You better be, because if I make you mine tonight, I’ll never let you go again.” She nodded again, grabbing the back of his head to crash their lips again.

They took each other's clothes in desperate movements. “Fuck, Alexis you’re so damn gorgeous.”

He grabbed her from her waist and sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap. She straddled him as his passionate kisses made her crazy. She threw her head back giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped kissing the spot where her jaw and neck connected, his thumbs slowly teasing her hard nipples. She moaned loudly.

“Drake, please”

Drake smiled against her neck “Are you asking for mercy, Lexie?” His question was joined by the movement of his right hand wandering through her body producing jolts of electricity everywhere he touched her, until he finally reached her core. He stroked her skin enjoying how soft she was, before circling the little nub inside of her with his thumb.

Drake growled “Fuck, Lexie, you’re so wet for me” He kept teasing her, touching everything bit of skin around her clit.

“God, Drake, you’re driving me crazy, please…” Drake’s finger suddenly entering her, not letting her finish.

“Is this what you want, Lexie?” He whispered to her ear. She nodded lazily too excited to answer. “Come for me” He slid another finger inside making her writhe against him, her breaths becoming shorter, and shorter as she clung to Drake’s back.

“Drake, I…I god Drake fuck!” She screamed when a powerful wave of heat ran across her body leaving her wasted.

Drake steadied her with his arms, stroking her back. He kissed the top of her head giving her time to recover.

“Fuck me, Drake”

He buried his mouth in her hair. “I told you I was going to make you scream for mercy.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick rubbing her center “Look at me, O’Brien. I want to see your pretty face as I enter you”

She gasped and locked her eyes with him, her hands around his neck, his gaze piercing hers, as he entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

He growled again biting her shoulder. “Damn, Lexie you feel incredible baby, so fucking tight”

Drake didn’t know at what moment, but the energy of the room had shifted. He felt much more than a powerful lust for her. He wanted to have her, all of her, forever. They rocked their hips at the same pace, slowly at first but sooner increasing speed staring at each other as their movements became more passionate. He kissed her lips deeply, lost in her. They both felt a connection like neither of them had experienced before. He hit her spot several times making her moan his name over and over again. Without taking his eyes off of her, he stroked her clit as they both reached a point of no return.

“Drake!” She screamed his name yet again, as her muscles compressed around him. Feeling her come screaming his name pushed him over the edge, and he filled her completely.

They fell down on the bed, spent. He pulled her close to him and kissed her front.

“Are you staying?” His heart tugged at the vulnerability of her soft voice.

“If you want me to stay, O’Brien. I’ll never leave again.” She smiled against his chest as they both drifted to sleep, only to woke up a few hours later and made love again.

The morning light woke her up. He was hugging her tightly against him, with his chin on her shoulder, his breath in her ear. She had never felt safer or happier before, until a horrible thought crept into her head. What if he didn’t want her anymore? What if he decided again that she belonged with Liam?

She felt him move behind her. Maybe she should be casual about it, but she had no idea of how she would be able to do that. There was nothing casual about the way they had made love the night before. The expression was cheesy but it fit perfectly. The connection between them was deep and explosive.

His raspy voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Hi.”

She turned to face him and her heart skipped a beat when she saw his smile and the soft expression on his eyes. “Hi.”

Lucky. That was how Drake had felt that morning when he had opened his eyes. Like the luckiest bastard in the world. She was cuddled against him, bare and exposed to him, he could hear her soft breaths, smell her delicate scent. After all the reservations he had had, and the torment of thinking she loved Liam, he was elated to be with her that morning. He didn’t doubt anymore, not after the way she had given herself to him the previous night. He felt she was awake and whispered a soft hi in her ear. When she turned to him, he couldn’t control himself much longer. He had to make her his again.

After spending the morning making love, they took a shower together and got ready for Liverpool. Neither of them dared to talk about the future, unwilling to break their little bubble with practical matters or with Liam’s name.

They took the Ferry at Holyhead and arrived at Liverpool at 6:20, just in time to grab a little something to eat and go to Anfield Stadium.

The atmosphere was intense. Liverpool’s and Barca’s flags flooded the streets, mixed with chants in English and Spanish everywhere. It was electric.

Once at their gate, they had to wait in line to enter because security was checking people’s bags. Drake turned to watch Alexis’s face, she was almost jumping with exhilaration and a warm feeling spread all over his chest. He smiled to himself, never in his wildest dreams he could’ve anticipated coming there with her. He moved behind her and looped his arms around her waist protectively, there were too many people, too much excitement, she could easily get hurt.

They located their seats and Drake left to get a couple of drinks. He shook his head amused when he came back, she had taken her jumper off revealing her Barca’s shirt, a blue spot in a sea of red.

“Do you have a death wish, O’Brien?” He chuckled.

“It’s not my fault I have good taste” She shrugged.

“Come here” He cupped her face and kissed her softly, seriously considering the idea of skipping the match and taking her to a hotel room in Liverpool. “You have no idea how much I want you all time, Lexie.”

She smiled and kissed him too, overwhelmed by all the things she was feeling.

“Have you ever come to a Liverpool’s match before?”

She shook her head no. “It’s the first time.”

“Prepare yourself, everybody talks about the emotions of Liverpool's supporters, but it’s really something else when you see it in person.”

She opened her big eyes wide. “Are you telling me that the dark and brooding Drake Walker is capable of enjoying displays of emotion?”

He chuckled. “You’re a pain in the ass, O’Brien. You know that, don’t you?” He pushed aside the hair from her face and kissed her.

He was right; Liverpool supporter’s emotions were all over the place. They sang their hymn wholeheartedly, but it was when the first notes of ‘You’ll never walk alone’ played on the speakers that goosebumps appeared all over her arms. Every single person around her was singing passionately, pouring all their hearts on the song. One single voice for more than forty thousand supporters cheering for the players entering the field.

“Ready to lose, Walker?”

“Lose? Prepare for the greatest come back in the history of football, O’Brien”

She laughed cockily. “Love your optimist side, Drake. We’re three points ahead”

The referee blew the whistle announcing the beginning of the game.

Drake and Alexis were equally excited yelling instructions at their respective teams in a mix of English and Spanish.

At the seventh minute, Drake yelled emphatically as Origi scored the first goal. "Yes! Let's go!”

Alexis was fuming screaming in Spanish to the goalkeeper. “¡Pinche Stergen! ¡Muévete carajo!”.

He couldn’t believe how adorable she looked when she was that angry. He teased her in the hope to infuriate her even more. “That’s one, O’Brien, we have at least three more to go.” He said matter-of-factly, clearly enjoying the fire in her eyes.

The rest of the first half-time passed uneventfully, with no more goals of either team.

“You’re not so cocky now, are you, Walker?”

He groaned. “We still have a second time to go, O’Brien, don’t count your chickens just yet”

She smiled cockily, only a miracle could save Liverpool at that point. However, sixteen minutes after the whistle for the second time, the miracle happened when Wijnaldum scored two goals in a two-minute interval.

Twenty-three minutes later Origi nailed the final nail in the coffin scoring an historical goal, eliminating Barcelona from the competition.

Alexis screamed furiously at Stergen, Piqué and the rest of the team. Drake stopped his celebration for a minute to watch her as she jumped on her seat screaming. Her energy was exciting, contagious. There in the middle of a football match after the most incredible night of his life, he realized something he knew for a long time now, but that he hadn’t dared to accept before. He grabbed her by her waist taking her down off of her seat. She used the momentum to straddle him and kiss his lips passionately, as his hands wandered along her back sending electricity everywhere. When he parted, he cupped her face, an earnest look in his chocolate eyes.

“I love you, Lexie. I’m completely crazy about you”

God, she loved him so much that his words touched her profoundly. She cleared her throat and fixed her dark eyes on him. “I love you too, Drake. With everything in me.”

He crashed her mouth with hers again in the middle of the cheers and ovations of the Liverpool supporters.

“We’re definitely not going back to Cordonia tonight.”