#neils life is just a series of people making stupid decisions that leave him staring unimpressed into camera like an episode of the office | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queen-of-seventeen · 5 years

Text

My favourite drug

So my posting date was yesterday and I did post it on ao3, linked to my artist and all, but I also wanted to share it here on tumblr for everyone who didn’t see.

ao3

the art by my lovely artist who was a wonderful person to work with and bounce ideas off and shoutout to @thespacebetweenworlds for betaing this and calling me out on rythm, word choice and plot. You’re an angel.

Also thank you gabriella for making @aftgreverse and moderating, this wouldn’t be here without you!

Andrew washed his hands. First rinsing with water. Top, heel, between the fingers. Then with soap and rinse it all. He never missed a spot. He didn’t feel like trailing blood everywhere he went. Not today, not ever. If only Aaron hadn’t forgotten the beeswax again for his hands. His skin wasn’t keeping up with all the washing.

Done.

He stepped out of the room. This should be the end of his work day. He’d have to make dinner for Aaron and prepare for Nicky’s visit from Germany. He should give Katelyn the week off, he didn’t know if he’d given her a break since he hired her years ago. Nicky could take over some tasks and Andrew would be off work a bit more. His cousin was at least notorious in that.

Andrew was already getting a headache when he thought about it. He didn’t hate his cousin but like was too strong a word. At least Erik and his hot chocolates were coming also.

The family of his patient hugged him when he told them their husband and father wasn’t going to die. Why did people feel the need to hug strangers? It was nauseating. Too bad he couldn’t stab them, it wouldn’t do his reputation good. He did have to be a “good” doctor in the end and not kill anyone. Like the man who had lain on his table.

Would he react the same way if it was Aaron or Nicky on that table?

No. He hadn’t cried like that after Aaron’s accident. He just had to crash the GT, hadn’t he?

He told the family that they would be updated by a nurse from now on and Andrew’s day was over. Besides, nurses did more work than he did, he just had to cut people open and stitch them shut. Easy deal.

Someone screamed outside. Probably a woman who would barely make it into one of the delivery rooms. Nothing for him to do. He made his way to the staff room when someone called his name. It was Boyd. He worked at the ambulances and was always too curious for his own good.

“Hey, Andrew, we kind of need your help? Someone has to stitch up Neil and he won’t let anyone but you do it.”

Andrew remembered Neil. He never forgot anyone, but least of all that auburn haired man that could always be found near Boyd. And if people knew little about Andrew they knew nothing about Neil. Which might be why Neil had picked out Andrew to stitch him up. The young man was full of dumb reasons.

Andrew waved a hand to make Matt follow him to an exam room with Neil.

“You’re doing it?” Matt asked. His jaw dropped and he ran a hand through his hair. “I mean great. Please do it quickly. I have no idea how much blood he already lost. Some freak outside stabbed him and he doesn’t even want to take his shirt of so we can put pressure on it.”

Another thing about Neil that didn’t add up. Andrew followed Boyd to one of the smaller examination rooms. He made Boyd wait when he went inside. The glass matte to keep from onlookers.

Neil looked up when Andrew walked in. Andrew’s face turning into a scowl. “You really had to be helpful today of all days?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow and got his supplies from the different drawers. Needles, thread, antiseptics, gauze. From the still spreading blood stain on his arm. He spread them out on the small table and leaned back on a stool. “I get paid to stitch you up.”

Neil remained silent. His eyes flitted to the door and back. Flighty little thing, wasn’t he? “I can stitch myself up.”

“Everyone here can stitch you up.” Not a lie. They all went to school for some form of medical programme. Andrew was certain that only a couple of the desk clerks didn’t know how to stitch up a simple wound or put a couple swallows on them until someone else came to close the wound. “I have a proposition for you. Either I let you stitch it up yourself, wait until you faint from blood loss then still do it myself and hook you up to an IV.”

Neil turned white. “Or? I only heard one option.”

“You let me stitch it up and you can be out of here in a couple of minutes with doctor patient confidentiality, of course.” Andrew crossed his arms. He missed his knives. Too bad they couldn’t go with him into surgery. He could just as well incapacitate Neil with a scalpel.

Neil stilled before taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Neil took of his coat. He didn’t seem bothered that Andrew wasn’t helping. Andrew was almost certain that neither of them wanted to get close to the other right then. Neil with his reluctance to be helped and Andrew just not wanting to be touched after surgery when he could still feel the blood under his nails.

He had washed his hands right?Rubbed them raw under the streaming water. Top, bottom, between the fingers. Then with soap, top, bottom, between the fingers. Rinse again. Rub them in with beeswax or hand lotion. Take better care of yourself, Andrew. You’re useless if we’re both stuck in wheelchairs.

Andrew blinked twice before he rolled his chair closer to Neil. His skin was pale and sweaty. Not attractive. Not at all. Neil stayed quiet as Andrew numbed the skin and picked up the needle. He didn’t flinch when Andrew stuck it in. “Staring.”

Neil hummed but didn’t look away. He didn’t look at his arm either. He was lucky that the knife hadn’t gotten stuck in one of the bones.

“I didn’t think you would agree,” Neil mused. “Everyone is always saying that you stick to yourself. That you only got in because you know the shrink and stuff.”

“And you believe them.” He said it like a fact. He knew that was what others said about him. One of the nurses, Renee, told him about it during their sunday brunch.

“I like getting my information from the source.” Neil didn’t ask anything else. He kept quiet for a bit. “This is the first time I’m getting stitched up by someone who isn’t family.”

Andrew fought not to react and tied off the thread. His fingers tied the bandage without touching Neil’s skin again. Tight, but not too tight. See Aaron, I know how to tie a bandage.

Neil cocked his head a poked at the bandage. “You’re already done.”

“I don’t waste time.” He started cleaning the equipment and threw out the needle. “Keep it clean but don’t get the wound wet under the shower. If you have any questions, but I doubt the hospital would make hiring decisions that bad, you can ask one of the nurses on the third floor.”

“You work on the third floor?” Neil’s eyes widened. They were too blue to be true. Maybe someone had slipped something in Andrew’s drink and he was making this all up. Like he made up half of his teenage years before Aaron came into the pictures. All the good memories fell under that category.

“Kevin never told me that he works with you.”

“We don’t.” Neil stayed quiet. “We both have our own team. Kevin is the best neurosurgeon this hospital has. My office is on his floor but I work in transplants and amputations.”

“What if I’d come to your office for advice on how to clean this?”

“I get paid to humor everyone with an appointment.” Andrew was finished with cleaning. Why didn’t he leave? Why hadn’t Neil left already? He should be gone. Should go up in smoke. Gone. Out of Andrew’s sight. “Make one and you’ll see what happens. I’m leaving.”

Andrew didn’t look back when he left the room. He certainly didn’t think he should get Neil’s phone number. It’s not like he’d need it for anything. Not like he wanted to speak to Neil or any of his stupid colleagues again.

A surgery is a series of complex steps to make sure you don’t accidentally kill someone for a service they asked of you. In other terms: People ask you to consensually stab them in places where they’ll survive.

In this instance Andrew had been needed to do a liver transplant. The woman who got it was lucky. Some guy before her on the list had drunk alcohol. Stupid mistake. There’s only so many rules for a transplant and he messed up an obvious one.

The lady of the transplant hadn’t drunk even once in her life she said. Andrew had no reason to believe her but the blood test came out clean so it was good enough. Good enough for the hospital and good enough for Andrew to stab her in name of his brother. Minyard. How did he even get settled with such a stupid name? With a dumb twin and a dumber cousin who was sleeping in their guest room with his kid and husband from Germany.

Why was family important enough to come visit so far? Andrew wouldn’t do that.

He poked his mashed potatoes with a fork. The texture was wonkey. It wasn’t smooth like it should be and Nicky would be horrified at the bland taste. How unfair life could be to get paid so much but still have such lousy food. He doubted that prison food tasted better. Even with perfect recall, tastes were always difficult to remember.

Like that one piece of chocolate he filched of a younger foster sibling, or the cookies he hoarded before they would cut off his dinner. He deserved better. He might be an angry midget but everybody deserves food. It might be why going to med school in Aaron’s place wasn’t that bad. He already had the credits and Aaron was his motivation letter. This way he could save someone in the same way he had failed his brother.

Telling himself it was just a car accident was both a lie and the ugly truth. Andrew knew what tempered breaks looked like and that Aaron was never supposed to drive in his car. If the police hadn’t found the guy responsible, Andrew would’ve killed him with his bare hands. Nobody touches the people Andrew promises to protect. Except for that time.

The chair opposite of him made an awful screeching sound before Neil sat down. He had to grace to flinch. A steaming ceramic cup warmed his hands. The last remnant of winter had probably seeped in his clothes during his shift.

Why was Andrew thinking of this? It must be the blue eyes.

“I got an appointment,” Neil said. “During lunch hour because you have real appointments of course but I know you still get paid during breaks. Kevin told me.”

Kevin was a traitor. Andrew knew that already. Kevin always had to talk to other people and complain about Andrew. When he wasn’t complaining about Andrew, his apathy towards mistakes, and his poor social skills, he was complaining to Andrew about people. Now Andrew would feel bad for those people only he didn’t like those people and zoning Kevin out mid rant was part of his poor social skills. Now that he was looking at Neil he noticed some things. Neil was a short, flighty, redhead. Which was part of the description Kevin had given at the beginning of his rant. Some stupid red headed midget who always claimed the trackmill in the gym.

Andrew would ask if that’s how Neil knew Kevin. But that would imply Andrew was interested in it. He wasn’t. Not at all.

“I don’t think you have an appointment right now,” Andrew said. “For one, I’m eating and didn’t ask for you to be here.”

“I didn’t see anyone else sitting in this chair.” Neil grinned and ran his finger over the rim of his mug. A real mug with what seemed to be real hot chocolate, with milk, not water.

“The chair’s reserved for my doppelganger. Ask him if you see him.”

“There could never be two of you.”

“That’s just a lie. How did you graduate if you don’t know about twins, triplets, quadruplets, need I go on?”

Neil cocked his head and smiled. He ran his fingers over the rim of the mug again. “How hard must your parents have had it with two of your personality.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. He watched the smile slip as Neil looked over his shoulder.

“I have to go.” He stood up. The mug still on the table. He hadn’t drunk from it even once. “Matt’s signaling.”

“You’re forgetting your drink.”

Neil looked back over his shoulder, that damn smile back. “I never liked hot chocolate. Consider it a thank you.”

Andrew’s fingers wound around the mug, lukewarm by now, to throw it at Neil’s head. He didn’t do it. Only because he needed this job. Needed the big sums of money to keep paying for Aaron’s care. For Katelyn and the wheelchair, the special shower, all the medication and physiotherapy.

He took a swallow as he didn’t watch Neil walk away. Didn’t watch his ass like he was back at Eden’s with his brother at his side and his cousin on the dance floor down below.

When were Nicky and Erik coming over again? He still had to hire somewhere to clean the house. Someone to pick up the cigarette buds and empty bottles. He never noticed if Katelyn threw them out or not. He didn’t like to spend time at home at all.

He should visit Bee again. See if she could figure out what was going on in his head. He wasn’t able to. Not now. Not when his life was catching up to him.

He would have to figure that out soon enough, but not when he was a mess. Not now. Not now.

Home was a mess. Everything was dirty and Andrew didn’t want to clean everything. Even if Nicky was coming that evening. Andrew and Aaron were going to pick them up in a couple of hours. He couldn’t believe he had taken two whole days off for Nicky. Aaron would be able to entertain him way better.

Aaron leaned forward out of his chair, almost sliding out. His fingers just touched the knight enough to scoot it a bit.

“Be careful,” Andrew snapped. “We should’ve sat at the kitchen table.” That way he wouldn’t have to pick his brother up from the floor.

“I told you, I like the view better here. It’s a great garden. Katelyn offered to plant some flowers. You know it being spring and all that.”

“Bulbs have to be planted in the winter. We wouldn’t have tulips if we had to wait for Katelyn to plant all of them.” He didn’t like Katelyn. Didn’t like how she pried in all the cupboards when he already told her where the meds were. How she insisted Andrew had to clean more because it was better for Aaron.

He didn’t need a stranger in his bathroom. It was his bathroom, his bedroom, his home, his brother. The only reason she was here was because Andrew was living Aaron’s dream. He could’ve been FBI or CIA or just a regular cop by now. He had studied for it in the first years of his college education.

Then came the car. Andrew became a surgeon and Aaron was bound to a desk at the newspaper two days a week. He was a better writer than he first thought, at least. Imagine all the threats they’d get over false news otherwise.

Aaron leaned forward again and this time actually managed to move the knight without knocking over the whole board.

“You’re setting yourself up to lose.” What was his brother doing? They had played together for years now. Aaron knew what a losing move looked like.

“If I can win from this position I want you to do me a favor.” Andrew looked over the rim of his reading glasses. Contacts were for work days, and the dates he couldn’t go on anymore.

“No,” he said. It couldn’t only be bad if Aaron was asking that of him. Maybe someone at his work asked him out out of pity. The guy that can’t walk, only has so many fingers. Must be fun to see if he can get it up, right? He wouldn’t allow for someone to use his brother like that.

“You didn’t even hear what I want to ask of you.” Aaron let his wheelchair bump into the table before he moved a piece.

“I said no. I won’t do you anymore favors.”

“When have you ever done me any favors?” Andrew could almost imagine his twin standing up. He always wanted to be taller when he got angry. It was why Andrew stayed seated in the low chair.

“The last time I did you a favor you got yourself hit by a car and destroyed mine, remember?”

Aaron visibly flinched and sunk down in his chair. ��I wanted you to drive me to a restaurant, okay. Katelyn asked me to try out some icecream with her.”

“You want to go on a date?” Aaron nodded. Andrew folded his hands. He had to say no. He had to protect his brother. Protect him as if they were thirteen again and Andrew was the only thing between Aaron and his mother’s hands. Between Aaron and another hit. “If Nicky is still here by then you can get him to drive you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re thirty-two. I’m not driving you.” He stood up. His hands itched for a whiskey he hadn’t drunk in years. They didn’t mix well with Aaron’s meds. He could almost taste the burn in his throat.

He grabbed water with ice instead. A second glass already in his hands filled with lemonade before he thought of it.

The stool felt warm and gross when he sat down again. Why didn’t chairs ever just feel neutral?

His fingers moved his queen in reach of Aaron’s knight. He knew he was setting himself up to lose also. Aaron gave him a look like he understood. He could never. He had never given up the last shreds of what he wanted for someone just because he made a promise. Aaron never kept his promises anyway.

It took ten more minutes before Andrew’s pager went off. Buzz, buzz. He reached for it in the same moment that Aaron got him checkmate. The queen was gone and Andrew had nowhere to go.

Emergency. Ambulance incoming in 20 minutes.

Aaron looked chagrined. “Hospital?”

“I could ask them to page Kevin.” Andrew took a sip from his drink.

“You could save someone’s life.”

“Or end it.”

Aaron gave his brother a cold look. “You’re going to save them. I’ll call Nicky to drive Erik and him over here or I’ll call Katelyn and she can take us to and from the airport. We both know she doesn’t have much other patients with the amount you pay her.”

“I wasn’t the one who said I couldn’t have more than three sports cars.” This didn’t improve Aaron’s look but Andrew’s mood went a bit up. Today was supposed to be their brother day after all and the surgery was messing it all up. “Call Katelyn. See if she still likes you after meeting Nicky.”

He pulled on his coat and closed the door before Aaron could reply. His brother was going to get his heart strings pulled. No big deal. It wasn’t like their agreement was still running. Aaron had broken it one to many times. And Bee said it was time to let things go. They were both thirty-two after all.

The Maserati wasn’t his normal work car but he needed to be there quick. The nurses and other surgeons on his team were probably already prepping the room. He still had to dress and clean. He was too slow.

His feet pressed on the peddle a bit more.

The doors slid open in front of him and he didn’t remember half of the trip there. That wasn’t a good sign. It was never a good sign when he was losing time like that. He should get it checked out. There probably was an explanation for and Bee wouldn’t put it in his report if he asked it during a friendly dinner.

The blue scrubs he wore were still clean. His head was still full. There was so much that could be happening at the moment. What if his patient had already died in the ambulance. Then he’d have left Aaron alone for no reason.

Andrew let someone pull on his gloves. It was long ago that he didn’t dare pull his arm guards off but they weren’t hygienic enough for a surgery. He had no choice. No choice but to almost flaunt all his scars to his team. He saw Renee in a corner. The blatant lie that she didn’t want to be a surgeon. He knew she’d had the training. He knew that she only became a nurse because she got more contact with people that way. It was why the boss was so reluctant to give her a raise, fucking Joan of Arc didn’t care for it. Stupid.

In the end a surgery was just as much the use of the right equipment and team. Andrew knew he had both.

It was a surprise for him when it turned out that he hadn’t known everything from the start. He knew it had been a car crash. Look out for internal bleeding, for ruptured organs, for anything. He hadn’t seen the blood at the start. It was a body, there was blood everywhere, always. Robin was good at suction and watching over abnormalities and he was glad Jack had been transferred to Kevin’s team.

There was more blood than planned. At the bottom under the liver there was a small gap. A rib had punctured it and nobody had told him. He’d have told them how low the chance of succeeding was if they had. Now he had to save the dickwad on his table because someone else forgot to tell him stuff.

No time to think. He had to act. To save the man.

He did. He did save the man. Barely. He wasn’t sure how much of the spine was messed up during the drive, the stretcher, the man handling and the surgery. He could’ve just messed up the man’s chance at walking. Not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault. He told himself.

This is nothing like Aaron’s accident. He had no control over Aaron’s accident or surgery. Aaron was already done for before the medical team arrived on scene. It was a miracle his brother was still alive. If Andrew believed in miracles. He didn’t. Miracles were for the hopers and the hopeless. He was neither. Faith was a waste of his time and had never gotten him anywhere.

It had only gotten his hopes dashed. A very visual imprint of you don’t deserve this . He hated it.

The steps at the back door were cold. The only time they were warm was when your butt would melt into one of the steps themselves. At the moment they just turned Andrew into a popsicle. It wasn’t good for him to sit there. He might get a UTI or some other disease from the bacteria that lingered there. The bacteria that would seep into his lungs and might finally make an end to his misery. Long ago he had thought it was his time to go. The world hadn’t agreed with him. Instead they’d tried to take his brother away.

He hated the world and the people in it.

He pulled his last packet of cigarettes out of his backpack. The flame already leaving the smoke he so desperately needed in his lungs. Starting to smoke had been a mistake. A mistake from 13 year old Andrew. Now he had to live with it. He craved the ashes on his tongue as much as he craved control. Maybe becoming a surgeon hadn’t been so bad an idea. He now controlled life and death after all.

Who was he kidding? It was awful. He much preferred singling out murderers and criminals faster than any other in his class. Yet another thing taken away from him.

He blew out the smoke, watching it cloud his sight of the Maserati. The car bought from his first big paycheck. The others had all gone to Aaron. No. No more thoughts of Aaron. He let the smoke billow around him before inhaling again. Let the smoke fog up his mind and cloud his judgement.

His thoughts became fuzzy. He needed fresh air. Clean of the nicotine to keep him alive. Bee would tell him to breathe.

“You’re a smart man, Andrew. You could do everything you want. Yet you follow your brothers dreams.”

But Betsy was a fool. She didn’t know anything of Aaron. Mostly because Aaron didn’t want to talk to the psychiatrist. She also didn’t know of their little agreement to look out for each other and stick together. One that Andrew was slowly loosening up as he let Aaron go out for a single date. Okay, he did it because Nicky would be nagging too much otherwise but still. Andrew would put his brother in first place even if he only ever got second, or third, fourth on a bad day.

Stupid.

The door opened with a whoosh and slammed shut. Andrew glanced sideways to see Neil sit down on the steps a careful arms length away. He always seemed to do that. Staying a careful distance away. Hmm, what would Bee say about him? He should ask her during their next lunch. As far as Andrew knew Neil wasn’t a patient so Andrew should be able to ask her.

He blew out a big plume of smoke before locking his gaze on the Maserati. He could feel Neil staring, those big blue eyes burning. Andrew allowed himself one more sideways glance. Neil was sitting on his hands. Andrew was barely able to stop himself from wondering about those strong thighs. Damnit, maybe he shouldn’t have given up Roland those years ago. He could’ve gotten a decent fuckbuddy out of him.

“Staring,” Andrew said. He put the cigarette down. It didn’t taste good, nor did the one after that. He had three left in the package before he gave up. It wasn’t a good time for smoking anyway.

Neil hummed. “Looking at you is better than Matt’s face. He gets these big sad eyes every time I tell him I haven’t done something.” When Andrew didn’t react he went on. “Like ice skating, or to the cinema, taking pictures for your own apartment. I didn’t even have an apartment before this job.”

Andrew looked at Neil as he leaned over his knees. Neil’s hair lit up in the early evening sky. It made him look like a fire and Andrew was the one getting burned if he kept at this for any longer.

“My mother left my father when I was eight,” Neil continued his monologue, “both of them died before I was eighteen. Lived in England for a while. Got my drivers license. Lost it again. Got it again in America. I’m very determined to not lose it a second time. Maybe keep to the speed limits a bit better.”

Andrew snuck glances at him while he rattled on. They were small bits and pieces about Neil’s life and while they seemed logical it didn’t add up to the person he tried to be. The Neil who was friends with Boyd. To be friends with Boyd you had to either be a puppy or as close to it as a person could be, or a kicked one. He was beginning to think Neil was the latter.

“I’m thinking of a getting a pet,” Neil said. “Matt says I should get a dog. It could go on runs with but to be fair I don’t want it to chew up my couch.”

Neil caught Andrew’s eyes and smiled. Too sharp for a puppy. He grabbed Andrew’s cigarettes only to get the matches out. It sparked and the flame lit up his eyes. A strange blue, not yet grey but very light. Like a midsummer sky back in California. It made Andrew dislike him a bit more. That the sunset set Neil’s hair aflame did not help his case. It looked brighter than the fire of the matches. He looked more addicting than the nicotine. Neil would probably kill him faster.

Andrew squashed down the small bit of want that went with his thoughts.

“Would you like to come with me to the shelter?” Neil asked.

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll ask Dan. She’s a bunny person so at least I won’t end up with something like a snake. No good memories of those in Australia.” Neil scrunched his eyebrows. “Or maybe not. I should take Allison and get her to buy all the toys for me because I won’t be spoiling the pet enough.”

“A pet is a bad decision. They need attention and you work irregular shifts. We all do. You can’t care for others like that.”

“I could if I wanted to. Something like a cat doesn’t have to be taken out. Although you might be right with all the litter.” Neil leaned back on his hands and looked up to the sky. “My break is almost over. Can I leave you here or should I get someone to stay with you?”

“Need to get home. Cousin is staying over for the week.” Andrew huffed. “This was supposed to be my week off. They owe me a night.”

“If you’re not here who will stitch up my wounds?” Neil’s smile was almost as blinding as his hair or the shine in his too smart eyes. Andrew wanted to punch him. Hard. Right across those cheekbones.

Andrew didn’t get why Neil was still sitting on the cold steps. Why he hadn’t so much as blinked when the flame had reached his fingertips. He was an enigma. A problem. Something Andrew wanted to solve. Somehow he thought he might be better off not trying.

Neil had to stop being so interesting.

Only, his brother was going on dates now . Bee would say to give it a try. People aren’t distractions. They’re a support system if you give them the chance. But he did have a support system. Aaron, Renee, Bee and Nicky, even if Nicky knew just about nothing. He didn’t need a fifth person to come into his house and eat his ice cream.

His hands itched for another cigarette and before he could deny himself Neil was already holding one out.

“I know what it feels like to be addicted to something. For me it’s running, and sometimes that’s more dangerous than a pack of cigarettes.”

Andrew took it and ignored the shiver down his spine when Neil’s fingers touched his. He ignored the burn of two blue eyes. Ignored the questions for the redhead. Ignored it when Neil said bye and jogged to the ambulance.

He ignored all the strange crawling feelings in his stomach until he got home and got distracted by his cousin and brother who had been waiting up for him.

Nicky, Erik, and Aaron were sitting in the backyard when Andrew came home. Nicky grinned when he saw him. A glass of wine in his and Erik’s hands, an untouched one in Aaron’s. Alcohol didn’t go well with his medication.

Andrew bypassed his cousin to pluck the glass away from his brother and drank it dry. Maybe not the smartest move as he hadn’t drunk in months either. “No more wine for Aaron. We quit drinking years ago.”

We. We. As if they had grown up together. As if they had those weird twin coincidences like being allergic to the same food or being able to read each other's minds through osmosis. Aaron didn’t like his twin enough to allow for that much. Andrew had started to care too much over the years that he wanted it. Like he never wanted anything but to keep his brother safe.

Nicky moved from his chair to Erik’s lap. His fingers disappearing in blond hair. Curly, like Neil’s, only Neil was a wildfire and Erik was a firefighter. He’d squash down the easy wit that bordered on antagonism. Andrew couldn’t have one. His only two joys in the hospital were tea with Renee and Bee and watching Neil burn someone to the ground.

He had to stop this. Had to stop looking at Neil and thinking of Neil. Had to stop anything to do with Neil. Next time Andrew would let him bleed to death at his front door.

He sat down in the chair Nicky abandoned. The wicks poked his back. Aaron always forgot the pillows. Apparently Nicky didn’t even assume they had them. As if he hadn’t been the one to raise Andrew during his teenage years.

“How was work?” Erik asked. His voice was much lower than anyone else in the backyard. If he hadn’t had such a pretty face and Andrew hadn’t had years of therapy he would’ve punched Erik at the associations his voice brought up.

“Nobody died. I’m still employed. Kevin is still the jerk who gets paid more than I do. ‘Best surgeon in South Carolina,’ don’t make me laugh.”

Aaron’s lips quirked up and Nicky was beaming. It wasn’t often Andrew made a joke. At least not a joke that didn’t border on antagonism.

Erik tapped Nicky’s thighs before making them both stand up. “I’m happy you like your job, Andrew. It will lessen Nicky’s grey hairs. Can’t have Camilla not recognizing her dad.”

Camilla was their six year old. They had adopted her back in Germany and she was tolerable for a little kid, Andrew presumed. Totally terrified of the wheelchair one second and fascinated the next. Too bad she wasn’t able to come as she was the funnest of his relatives but it was only her second year in elementary so Erik’s mom was watching her.

The couple wished the twins a good night before retreating inside of the house. It was quiet for all but a minute before there was a loud crash and a scream - surprise and pain. Nicky came running outside, eyes wide.

“Erik broke his arm. The bone is poking out and all. And… shit, fuck, our health care doesn’t cover american hospitals! Oh my god.”We don’t have money for an ambulance or health care outside of Germany.”

Andrew heard Aaron calming down Nicky as he went inside the house. Erik was laying at the bottom of the stairs and Nicky had been right. That was a bone. But no way in hell was Andrew calling an ambulance for a broken arm.

Andrew grunted. Hopefully the big lump didn’t have a concussion or any other unnecessary trauma, but there was a big chance that Andrew could help his cousin in law. He crouched and took the pen light out of his shirt pocket. It helped that he’d gone straight into the garden from work. It wasn’t like he normally changed into sweaters when he got home. He never knew when he would be called in again or if Katelyn was coming over.

“Look right, look up.” He gave a couple more orders and checked his neck and head before letting Erik sit up. Both Nicky and him said he hadn’t hit his head. Just a poor fall.

“We have to get you to the hospital to set your arm. I haven’t set one in a while but I know someone who does. I can ring her up.” He looked up at his cousin and brother. “I’m taking Erik. Can the two of you stay at home. Get some tea into Nicky. Erik and I will be back in an hour or two depending on Renee and the amount of available rooms.”

Nicky nodded and helped get his husband off the floor. Erik’s arm was put in a sling made out of two kitchen towels. They put him in the car and Nicky didn’t even threaten Andrew to bring his husband back safe or to not kill himself on the road. Maybe he finally started trusting Andrew some more. He definitely hadn’t finally gotten a brain.

Andrew dialled Renee during the car ride. He was steadily ignoring Erik’s stare and focusing on the road and on getting a room and personnel ready. If only someone on his own team was used to setting bones. But no, they were all stuck with the knowledge of how to cut open a living body and close it before it died.

Useless knowledge. For anyone that wasn’t a surgeon or encountering life threatening situations that is.

Renee met him at the door and let Erik straight into a room to get pictures taken. She was good at this. It was one of the reasons he befriended her at first. The second was that she was less stupid than his other colleagues. Renee came in with the pictures and started explaining the wound. Andrew saw Erik nodding, almost as if he was either going to fall asleep or faint. He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and handed it over without diverting his eyes from Renee. He absolutely did not see the grateful look when Erik ripped it open with his teeth.

She set the bone like it was her job. Which it was. In the end it only took her forty-five minutes for everything and send them off with an order for Andrew to buy him a coffee.

They sat down at one of the tables with gross, steaming cups. Erik was texting Nicky the news. There was probably some other stuff in there that Andrew didn’t want to know. He’d had enough of their sex life during their college years. Phone sex was not something you wanted to witness. Especially not when it’s your cousin.

Andrew felt eyes burning into him. From two sides. One was Erik who was trying to talk to him. Even if Andrew was close to passing out from a tough work day and having to drive his cousin back to said work. The other pair of eyes were from Neil. He was looking almost thoughtful and started coming over.

Andrew almost started believing in Nicky’s god just so he could pray for Neil to stay away.

Of course it didn’t work. Neil stopped next to the table and smiled. Andrew had seen that smile. Had almost walked into a wall because of it. Still he hadn’t had it turned on him ever before. He would’ve fallen out of his chair if he wasn’t Andrew Joseph Minyard.

“Hey, Andrew. I thought you’d gone home.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Andrew did not notice that. At all.

“To your boyfriend,” Neil added hastily.

Erik started laughing spitting his coffee back in the cup to keep from choking on it. Andrew just grimaced. That was gross. He had to admit Nicky didn’t have a bad taste in man but the thought of dating Erik left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I live with my brother. My cousin and his husband came to visit from Germany. This is his husband.”

“Guten Abend, Andrews Cousins Ehemann. Wie geht’s Ihnen?” Neil adressed Erik in fluent German.

Erik responded back in German. A lesser man than Andrew would’ve been shocked out of his mind. He never would’ve thought that Neil could speak German. Especially that well. The only reason Andrew could were because of Erik, Nicky and Camilla. He didn’t expect the little girl to speak English after all. He’d rather her learn Spanish anyway. Even if Nicky’s Mexican mom was a bitch she was less so than her husband, so her language should come first in her repertoire.

Andrew drank the last sledges of coffee before cutting into the conversation. “Nicky will start bothering me if I don’t get you back soon.”

He stood up and pulled on his black coat. Neil’s eyes didn’t so much as roam his body as train his eyes on Andrew’s face. Especially his mouth and his own eyes.

“You owe me a cigarette,” Andrew simply said before dragging his cousin in law out. He didn’t miss the quirk on Neil lips nor the one on Erik’s. He also pointedly ignored Erik’s questions about Neil and how much they saw each other. If they worked in the same department. He didn’t say anything.

At the end of the ride Erik had stopped asking and Andrew had started thinking that Neil might be more than just an itch he’d wanted to scratch. Neil was more interesting than Andrew had expected and he didn’t like that thought.

Nicky and Erik were almost set to go home. It’d been a little over a week already since Andrew had seen Neil in the hospital that night. They’d smoked behind the building on some days when their breaks coincided but Neil hadn’t said anything about the German. Andrew knew he wouldn’t. Not until Andrew asked and he wouldn’t. Neil had the right to his secrets. The same right Andrew had to his own.

Nicky was trying to get Aaron to wear a suit instead of the T-shirt. Erik was trying to get Andrew to borrow Aaron the car. Andrew was trying to ignore them.

He didn’t lend out his car to anyone. They only got to ride in it as a passenger. It was the only way he could make sure there weren’t more accidents.

More people like Aaron.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and send a single text.

“Come on, Andrew. Aaron hasn’t had a date in years. It’s only one night that he needs it,” Erik said.

Andrew felt the phone buzz and checked the screen. “I can’t lend Aaron the car. I need the car.”

He stood up and began towards the stairs. “Why do you need the car? You were staying home.”

Erik almost followed him up the stairs and Andrew saw Nicky leaning over the balustrade upstairs.

“I’m meeting a friend.” His face blank. Andrew kept walking up the stairs. He made to swerve around Nicky, it wouldn’t do him well to throw his cousin off the stairs, but Nicky stayed in his path.

“Just a friend?” Nicky asked.

“Is it pretty hospital guy?” Erik followed up. Oh, those two were made for each other alright. Both annoying.

Andrew didn’t answer and went into his room.

Neil probably wouldn’t understand that this was technically a date. Andrew had send him a time and an address with a show up if you want to. A bit ominous but quite Andrew.

He pulled on his normal clothes. Things like his black turtleneck and skinny jeans, his combat boots should be somewhere in the back of the closet. Behind the box of all the old study books he didn’t have to read anymore. They were clothes that he couldn’t wear to work. The clothes he felt most comfortable in.

He almost didn’t bother with his hair. Neil probably wouldn’t notice the effort anyway. Still he did it. He wanted to impress Neil for the not-date. O god. Neil didn’t know it was a date. If the guy was as oblivious as Kevin always implied he might even show up in track pants. Well, here’s for hoping. It wasn’t like Andrew couldn’t leave him in the restaurant if he showed up like a hobo.

He walked down the stairs. Passed his brother, straightened Aaron’s ugly blue tie, and let Nicky pat him on the shoulder. It was a step up from the hugging. Not great, but okay.

The doors shut behind him. Knowing he was coming back there to his brother and cousin was the only reason he didn’t freak out at the change. It had been them, the two of them, for so long- He didn’t know if he liked adding people to the mix. Although he had to admit that Erik hadn’t been that bad of an addition.

Maybe Katelyn wouldn’t be an atrocity either. Neil would probably be awful if he finally figured out it was a date. Maybe Andrew should tell him. Yes, he should. He would. That’s right. Just when Neil arrived, to clear the air between them.

Andrew did not get a chance to broach that topic. He was already sat at one of the tables in the too fancy restaurant when Neil walked in. He was wearing skinny jeans, for god’s sake, and a long sleeved shirt that showed his muscles off too well.

Neil sat down opposite to Andrew and immediately took a sip of the champagne. “Matt said this is a date.”

He took another sip and swooshed it around in his mouth. “That you’ve been eyeing me for a while and I was oblivious.”

“Did he also make you wear those jeans?”

“He did,” Neil smiled, “do you like them?”

“They’re less terrible than your usual attire.”

Neil smiled again. A big, toothy grin that took Andrew’s breath away like a stolen cigarette. Neil put his glass aside and grabbed his menu. “Oh, they haveEscargots, one thing I never want to eat again.”

“Jean from oncology said they are better in France anyway.”

Neil hummed. He closed the menu and tapped his long fingers on top of it. “Tried them there. Didn’t like them. The texture just isn’t for me. I think I’m going with hare steak. Have you ever tried that?”

Andrew shook his head. He picked out his own dish and closed the card. “My cousin made me promise to never eat bunnies. I don’t go back on my promises.”

Andrew looked down at the embossed letter on the menu to avoid Neil’s face.

“You never answered my question,” Neil said.

“You didn’t ask one.” Andrew raised a single eyebrow.

“Is this a date?”

“Yes or no, Neil?” Andrew finally looked up. He found the blue and thought of the hottest part of a flame. Looked at Neil and thought of all the secrets shared on dirty hospital steps. He hoped for an answer and wished Neil would say no. Andrew had been a danger to everyone for years. He didn’t deserve someone like Neil. Someone who gave those secrets away like they were loose change and Andrew was a beggar.

He’d promised himself to never beg again but he thought that he might cave a single please to never find his brother in a hospital bed again.

“Yes, Andrew. I want to be on this date with you.”

Andrew nodded. His eyes back to the embossed letters and his fingers tracing the curves until Neil’s hand came into sight. Close but not touching.

When Andrew looked up the waiter was waiting for his order. “The salmon.”

Neil smiled like he had known what Andrew was going to say before the words had even left his mouth. Andrew didn’t know if he liked it.

Conversation with Neil wasn’t like anything Andrew had with anyone else. It was wild and quiet and outrages and calming and so many different things. Sometimes it was completely silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Neither had realized just how used to each other they had become with all those hours.

Hours Andrew got the evil eye for when he got home late for Aaron. He realised they those hours had been worth it. Having conversations with someone who treated him like just another human were worth it.

Someone other than Bee or Renee. Someone he could actually like over time.

If he’d ask the ladies they’d say this was good. In all honesty, and Andrew despised lying, he was terrified. Limiting Aaron’s sexual and romantic endeavours had also meant staying on his own himself. He couldn’t feel sorry for that but he was glad he could feel the fear after all those years.

Was glad to have Neil sitting at the table with him when they already trusted each other.

And if Andrew fantasized that night about Neil’s lips on his he wouldn’t tell anyone himself.

Andrew crossed his legs. He counted to sixty before uncrossing them. Nicky was supposed to be here already. Andrew had forgotten the burritos at home and Nicky had sworn he’d bring them. Andrew had forgotten that Nicky was always late.

Finally the doors opened to let Nicky in. His dark skin looked sickish in the hospital light. Then again who didn’t look ill in a hospital? Maybe Andrew because his completion was already as pale as that stupid Edward Cullen guy.

Nicky didn’t just hand over the burritos and left. He just asked if they were allowed to eat where they sat and started unpacking his bag. He pulled out drinks and food and sauce and-

“Nicky, you said you were bringing a single burrito.” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“I’m bringing lunch. I’m leaving soon and I’ve barely seen you because of your work. Which great, you’re saving people. I even saw the girl that patched Erik up outside. She said you have a picture of us and our little girl.”

“She’s lying,” Andrew deadpanned. “Renee doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Nicky started arguing but fell silent. “Is that redhead who I think it is?”

Andrew turned around to stare in the same direction. Neil’s hair was almost brown under the hospital lights but the smile on his face made him light up from within. They stared for a minute. Neil’s laughter echoing through the hall.

His head turned and his eyes fell on Andrew, than on Nicky. His soft smile spread across his face as he waved and started walking over. Andrew wouldn’t have minded it if Nicky hadn’t been sitting next to him. Nicky had in no way brought enough burritos for all three of them.

“Is this the husband of mr. My Cousins Husband?” Neil said. He was just standing there. Right next to him. His hair a mess of auburn curls and his hands hung loose by his side. He looked great, even in uniform. That might even help.

“What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.” Neil smirked and extended a hand. “I’m Neil.”

“You are the date!” Nicky’s grin took up his whole face. “I’m Nicky, grumpy’s cousin. I hear you’ve met my husband.”

Neil nodded. He pulled his hand back a little too quick. Nicky probably didn’t notice. Andrew noticed everything.

“Join us for lunch?” Nicky looked a bit too hopeful but Andrew already knew Neil had to get back to work in a couple of minutes.

“Only if this counts as our second date, or should I just text you an address for tonight?” He was pretty sure that if he lifted his eyebrow any higher they’d disappear in his hair.

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Text me the address and get back to work.”

Neil’s smile was sharp and shark like but Andrew thought he liked it. Nicky certainly did. Andrew didn’t feel sorry when he kicked his cousin over it.

Andrew was waiting in his car. Neil said he’d get there in about ten minutes. Apparently the loser didn’t have a car. He should’ve mentioned it. Andrew would’ve picked him up. Too late for that now. He said Boyd was bringing him. Nicky had said they sounded like high schoolers. Andrew as the cool guy in his car and Neil being brought by his unofficial dad.

His phone rang and the vibrations made an annoying sound in the cup holder. Or phone holder, as Andrew used it. “Minyard.”

“Andrew,” Renee said. “We need you to get here for an emergency, all the other surgeons are unavailable.”

He turned his key in the ignition and drove off. Neil would understand.

“Tell me who and what,” he ordered.

“Young man, no allergies or prior surgeries. There was nothing wrong with him but well-”

“Spill it, Renee.”

“It’s Neil Josten. Matt was driving him to a date and they got into a crash. Matt was fine but someone drove into Neil’s side of the car. There’s some glass shards in his upper body and we’re afraid he might have a collapsed lung.”

Neil. It was Neil. Neil who was supposed to be arriving at that same restaurant in three minutes.

Andrew tried not to think about the similarities between his brother and his date. Tried not to think that Neil might already be dead before he even arrived at the hospital.

Andrew had never gotten to the hospital that fast.

Getting ready for surgery was a blur and it might not be the safest thing to let him operate half in shock. It wasn’t like they had any other choice. Kevin and the other surgeons were all busy or out of the country or too far away to be able to save him.

There were scalpels and blood and flat lungs and almost flat liners and glass on its way to Neil’s heart to stop it before Andrew could save the one person willing to date him. The one person he was willing to date.

Neil had always respected his boundaries and now Andrew was breaking all of his to save Neil’s live. It was worth it. Even if Neil would hate him for putting him on display, at least he’d be alive because if there was one thing Andrew was good at it was saving life. Stitching skin to keep someone from bleeding out and dying on his table.

The surgery took too long and too short and Renee pumped sugary drinks and food into him when it was done to try and get him out of the minor shock. He was a mess and he knew it but he didn’t talk. Couldn’t say anything. Not to Renee, not to Bee, not to his brother and cousin when they came by in the hospital room to see if Neil was doing any better.

Only there were no signs he was getting better. Yes, his wounds were closing, but Neil was still asleep. His right arm and leg still broken and his mind dormant. Andrew hated it every time he set foot in that stupid room.

His reprieve was work. Work and Aaron. His brother who saw Andrew much the same as he had been years ago. His brother who must see that this was no different than when Aaron lay there much the same way.

A car accident. A couple broken bones. A heart so close to stopping that Andrew was willing to give his own. He wouldn’t die to save Neil but the feeling came close enough.

It took a week for Neil to wake up. Andrew was sitting next to his bed, his head propped on his arm as he read.

“Andrew,” a soft voice croaked. Andrew quickly set down his book and moved the glass of water with a straw to Neil’s mouth.

“Spare your voice. You’ve been out for a week. You could’ve just told me if you didn’t want to go on a second date.”

Neil almost missed the quirk of his lips when he said that. It was a sad one.

“I did. Fucker in the other car ran through red. Must’ve.”

Neil was right. Andrew didn’t want to know how he could still remember that.

“Take a nap, Neil. You need to rest.” Neil nodded but moved his hand to grab Andrew’s. “Stay, yes or no?”

“It’s always yes with you,” Neil said before passing out again.

Andrew turned to his book. His heart started beating again. A shade so dark it was almost black. Rotten from years of neglect and disuse. Years in which he was denied love and care. A heart so dark he thought nobody would see through but his friends had grabbed candles and flashlights and decided they would be his light until he found his own. Now there was enough light. Not a lot but enough. Light for his family, for Bee and Renee and now for Neil. Because Neil wanted him to stay. For however long that was Andrew would take it. He would stay for Neil.

#noa writes tfc #i wrote stuff #time for the hiatus i dont feel like taking anymore #but alas i need to take a break #doctor andrew #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard

95 notes · View notes

theashemarie · 7 years

Text

Blank Space (Sonic Forces Fic)

[first scene is based on this art by @neil-degrasse-china. also, this is AU now yaaaaay]

[[He’s the same, after all this time, and that’s the thing that bothers Gadget the most. ( Infinite’s memory after the Ruby is removed is spotty, and he doesn’t remember the war. At all. Infidget.)]]

Gadget is sitting up in bed, reading through a series of texts in the Sonic/Tails/Amy group message (sans Knuckles because he’s... not in a service zone) with Infinite asleep next to him. It’s strange to be here, back in the apartment, pretending things are normal. Infinite has a bun like he used to, arm stretched above his head, lightly snoring. His chest is Ruby-free but he’s still sleeping like it’s there, like he has to accommodate its hard, pressing edges—arms out of the way, on his back, breathing slowly so as to not upset it.

Of course, he doesn’t remember it, but his body holds the memory somewhere.

Sonic asks, how is he, because Sonic is kind and attentive, notices things others don’t. Gadget squints at the phone because putting on his glasses would be committing to a day he’s not ready to face yet, and the letters appear before him, still fuzzy but there. He wants to say, fine, because that’s the easy answer and he is fine, but he’s also not at the same time. Plus, that’d be cheating. Gadget knows that Sonic, Tails, and Amy want real information.

He still doesn’t remember, he taps out instead, forcing his fingers to find the familiar smoothness of the screen, even after all this time. New phone, same feeling.

Infinite rolls suddenly, throws his arm over Gadget’s middle, makes a tiny snuffling sound, and it’s all so familiar that it almost makes Gadget cry. He’s surprised by it, but he’s also not. His phone falls out of his hand and his other hand falls with it, to grasp Infinite’s arm.

His fingers clutch hard to scarred, thin limb, and it’s like old times. Except it’s not. It can’t be.

Infinite’s memory of the war, of the Ruby, doesn’t exist. He showed up at the apartment about a week after it was over, exhausted, confused, and collapsed into Gadget’s arms, sobbing his eyes out. He babbled as Gadget reeled, something about waking up in the woods somewhere, confused, lost, had to find his way home. Luckily, it wasn’t far, just outside the city, and he woke up in a crater, which he didn’t understand; was he abducted by aliens or something?

Gadget could’ve laughed, but he held it in. Yes, you were pretty much were abducted by aliens, he wanted to say, but instead, strangely, he started crying too.

That night was confusing. Gadget took Infinite to the hospital, where the doctor determined that he was dehydrated but not malnourished, hooked him up to an IV, and left them alone. Infinite asked small, probing questions, looking tiny, so small, in the bed, trying to get a grasp on everything. Gadget didn’t know how to answer, so he just made small noises in neither confirmation or denial. It felt a bit like he couldn’t touch the ground, like he was hovering just a few feet above his body, looking down at himself and Infinite.

Infinite doesn’t remember anything from that first day, right before the war. He doesn’t remember Gadget doing well on his final, the Ruby’s slash through the sky, or his decision to go find it. He doesn’t remember the war, the months and months where he reigned terror on the whole planet in Eggman’s name, where he killed— It’s better not to think about that part.

(Was it really him, doing the killing, if the Ruby was in control? Where does the body end and the person begin?)

He treats Gadget like he did before. Tender looks, soft touches, lingering hands, hands on hips. It all feels pastel after the darkness of the war, a thin film that isn’t real with its soft pinks and blues—like valentines and their safety, their canned sayings, their rounded, heart-shaped edges.

Gadget makes breakfast at the stove, poking at pancake batter, and Infinite is at the table, sorting through the newspaper. It’s been hard, trying to keep him away from the more dangerous periodicals, the ones that still declare him Public Enemy No. 1, because he loves his news. It calms him, he claims, especially in the morning, but Gadget knows that finding out he hurt so many people would do anything but. The local newspaper is safe enough, but this play won’t last much longer. Infinite is already getting antsy at being cooped up in the house—a farce Gadget cooked up, something something doctor said something something stay indoors—so, Gadget has to make some decisions.

Should Infinite know, and how much? The philosophical issue of the week. Hard answer: yes, and he should know all of it, but slowly, so as to not shock him. Gadget’s preferred answer: yes, but only some of it; he (Gadget) still hasn’t really confronted how much he (Infinite) killed (worldwide citizenry), maimed, and burned. If he can’t reconcile it, how can he expect Infinite to? How can he explain it to Infinite with the delicacy this desperately requires?

“Your glasses are different,” Infinite says as he puts down the paper. “What happened to the rimless ones?”

That’s true enough. Pre-resistance he had different frames, but the battles had required a few sacrifices, starting with his fashionable glasses. He traded them for thick, sturdy ones, ones that clutched close to his head, that they could attach a strap to, pull it tight around his head and ears. Now, after the war, he can’t put the old ones on, because they remind him too much of before.

“I wanted a change,” he answers, instead of all of that. “Don’t you like them?”

Infinite hums and his ears drop in thought. “Yeah, they’re kind of grunge, especially with those new gloves you’re so fond of.”

Gadget looks down at his bare hands, grips the spatula a little tighter, and decides not to answer. Instead, he flips the pancakes and lets the sizzle sit between them.

Infinite sighs and rubs his eyes. “I know there was a war.”

Gadget drops the spatula. It smacks into the pan, clatters to the floor, and he kicks it as he turns. Infinite isn’t looking at him, just above and to the right of him. “How?” Gadget demands.

“I’m not stupid,” Infinite shoots back.

Gadget crosses his arms, sets him with the hardest look he can manage.

“The TV might not work,” Infinite says, indignantly, “but the radio does.”

Of course— Of course it was the radio. Infinite loves that thing, and Gadget hasn’t had the heart to hide it. A grave mistake.

“Not to mention,” Infinite continues, “the city is quiet, and everyone is nice. That only happens after something big. It’s not hard to put together.”

Gadget doesn’t know what to say, can’t say what he needs to say, so he mechanically bends down, picks up the spatula, throws it in the sink, and pulls the pan off the stove. The pancakes aren’t done.

That night, they sleep in the same bed, back to back. It was dark when Gadget returned, but he could hear and sense Infinite waiting up for him in bed. The sheets were pooled around his middle, his hair was up, and he was watching, eyes partially glowing in the dark. He didn’t say anything as Gadget climbed under the covers, but he didn’t have to—it was all there, between them, festering and weeping like an open wound.

Gadget wandered off into the city after breakfast. Mainly because he was hungry (they didn’t actually eat at breakfast, just kind of pushed cereal around their bowls and avoided looking at each other), but also because he had to get out. He felt bad leaving Infinite in there alone, knowing that he wouldn’t leave no matter how much he wanted to. He still loved Gadget that much, trusted him that much, that even when they were arguing, he still didn’t want to upset him.

He’s the same, after all this time, and that’s the thing that bothers Gadget the most. He can’t get away from it, how Infinite was pre-Ruby, all softness in the privacy of their apartment, long stares and hard sighs. Gadget, in comparison, is completely different—hardened by war and by loss, by fighting with the person closest to him. And not typical, domestic fighting, not arguing. They battled to the death, on opposite sides of a war, fought at the tipping points. He couldn’t get it out of his head, saw Infinite in his dreams, saw him launching projectiles and teleporting around, kicking everyone like soccer balls. People died— He almost killed Gadget. He can’t just forget that.

He stayed out all day, trying to put all of this into boxes, pack it all up so he could deal with it later. For now, he needed to go back, to the time before, try to understand how the Infinite-of-before would be feeling in this situation. He’s still operating on the Infinite-of-now, the Infinite that Gadget sorta wants to suffer a little, just because of how much he hurt everyone. But, the Infinite-of-before is innocent to all that. He was just trying to do his job before all this started, trying to set his life on track, trying to make sense of the world in his own little way. Gadget can’t fault him for everything that happened in between, not really.

But, eventually, the two must meet. Before and now. It’s just a question of when and how. Gadget has to do it soon.

Or else, Infinite will find out from somewhere else, someone meaner, someone who can only see the worldwide tragedy in its grandness, someone who wants to pin it all on one or two people. Gadget alone can see the tiny tragedy unfolding in his living room, where innocence meets terror, when the past must reconcile the present, and he knows there’s more nuance than just whodunit. Infinite is a casualty in this too, in his own way.

So, he climbs into bed, petrified of the conversation, but he’ll have it if Infinite wants it. They’re both adults; they trust each other endlessly and know how to talk to one another. They can do this if they want.

It’s quiet, barely the whisper of their breaths. The dresser is casting a strange shadow on the wall that Gadget’s never seen before, and he squints at the wall, trying to pinpoint what it is. The same bottles are there, lined up in the same order because Infinite is particular, the same picture frames, the same knick-knacks.

Then, he sees it. The mask. Hard points, lightning bolt eyes, large ears. Gadget sits up, shaking, wants to gag but swallows it down, and he kicks his legs out. He has to get out of here— He can’t— He can’t be here with that thing—

Infinite’s hand snakes around Gadget’s wrist, pulls his whole arm taunt as Gadget tries to pull away. Infinite’s still stronger than him, just barely, but he doesn’t jerk him, pull him, just holds him in place. His hand is hot, brand hot, his fingers tight, and if the color white had a feeling it would be this: those fingers, clutching desperate, searing like plasma.

Gadget turns his head, just there, and can just make out Infinite’s face in the low light. He’s got tears in his eyes and he makes full eye contact, doesn’t hesitate, just lets his eyes draw a parallel line with his arm, right up to Gadget’s face.

“Let go,” Gadget says hollowly, and he can feel the mask staring at him. “Infinite, let me go.”

“I need you,” Infinite whispers. “Gadge... I don’t know...” He looks toward the dresser. “I don’t...”

Gadget pulls and Infinite lets him go. With quick, sure steps, Gadget scoops up the mask without cognizant thought, opens the window, and flings it out. They hear it sail in hyper-detail, hear it land on the street below, where it will be run over by a passing car, then another, then another, eventually become so mangled that no one will recognize it come morning.

Gadget finds himself back in bed with his arms wrapped around Infinite’s back. Infinite is crying softly into Gadget’s chest, and Gadget wants nothing more than to pull Infinite into his ribcage to keep him safe from this hard truth, these evil deeds and their reporter-neutral statistics: this many dead, this much property damage, this many injured, this many children parent-less, this many buildings burned, this many lives ruined, this many people who can’t hold those they love like Gadget is holding Infinite, this, this, this...

“I don’t remember,” Infinite whispers so lowly it’s like he’s mouthing it into Gadget’s skin. “I don’t remember any of it. How do you know— What if it wasn’t me? What if they just used me somehow?”

Gadget doesn’t want to say these horrible things to him, but he also doesn’t want to lie to him. Lying would be doing them both a disservice, running from the problems, ignoring everyone who still suffers. “You recognized me.”

Infinite pulls away from Gadget, sits up so he can see him. The fur on his face is stained from his tears, tacky with salt and still slightly wet. “What?” he whispers.

“In one of the battles...” Gadget struggles for words for a second, because suddenly he’s back there. Barrage from above, crawling, speedy robots on the ground, Infinite floating before them, juggling two of his cubes like Baoding balls. Gadget’s battalion, nearly decimated except for Gadget and one other, bleeding out under Gadget’s hands as he tried to CPR breath back into his lungs. Infinite, floating toward them, indifferent toward the dying soldier, eyeing Gadget like he was a familiar landmark, with a detachment that terrified him.

You’re still beautiful, Infinite said as he grabbed Gadget’s chin between his hard, strong, thin fingers. A waste on the resistance. When this is over, I’ll come for you.

He can still feel those fingers on his face. They were like ice, left his face burning from frostbite, and he has to fight to keep himself from flinching.

“You saw me in one of the battles and recognized me. Said my name,” Gadget mutters (lies). It’s better to just keep it simple. Infinite doesn’t need to know this; no one else was there. The soldier died under Gadget’s worried hands after Infinite teleported away, suffocated on the blood filling his lungs. When Gadget got back to headquarters, numb, everyone thought he was shocked by the death, and he was, but there was also Infinite and his darkness. This was his friend... His— His. Infinite used to be his, and now he wasn’t anything Gadget recognized.

“I don’t remember,” Infinite whispers again. “You have to believe me.” He’s pleading, as if Gadget’s belief really matters. Even if he doesn’t believe him (and he does), that won’t change what he did.

“I believe you.”

“It wasn’t me. They were using my body. I’m— I’m terrified of guns.”

Gadget doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. He nods, because that’s a good way to let someone know you’re listening if you don’t want to say anything, and pulls Infinite back into his chest. Even with all of this, it feels good to hold him again.

In Gadget’s defense, it was self-defense.

Dreams are fickle things, but Gadget usually doesn’t let them get to him. This time though, with the stress of rebuilding, the stress of Infinite’s memories (or lack of memories), the stress leftover from the war... just, the stress. With all that stress, this one gets under his skin, lives within him even as he opens his eyes, realizes he’s thrashing but can’t move, something is holding him down, someone—

Mismatched eyes, glowing in the dark, a sharp muzzle, leaning over him with what looks like a smirk, a poisoned grin.

“Get off!” Gadget yells and throws his head forward. It’s a move he learned from Knuckles months ago and he’s never had to use it, mainly because all of his enemies were robots that he destroyed from a distance with a wispon, but he has the muscle memory from practice. He headbutts his attacker hard, smashes the hardest part of his head into the guy’s nose, is satisfied by a crunch.

“Ow, Gadget, what the hell!”

Gadget comes back to himself then, recognizes his bedroom, the familiar lumps of his bed, and Infinite, angled away from him, cradling his face, attempting to mask his bleeding nose.

“Oh, oh Chaos,” Gadget springs up, climbs onto his knees so he can reach for Infinite. He takes Infinite’s head between his palms, moves him so he can see his nose in the low light. It’s twisted out of shape, clearly broken, and he flounders for a second, unsure of what to do. Quietly, gently, he reaches up and brushes his finger over the crushed cartilage.

“Shit! Gadget don’t touch it!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Gadget recoils. “I panicked.”

Infinite is avoiding his gaze and he winces away any time Gadget tries to reach for him again. “Chaos, Gadge, what did the war do to you? You just headbutted me and broke my nose! I was trying to wake you up!”

“I’m sorry,” Gadget whispers, looking down at his own hands. “You reminded me... You reminded me of you... Hovering over me and holding me down.”

Infinite winces, but for a different reason this time. “I didn’t— I didn’t do that to you, did I? During the war...? I-I didn’t hold you down and— Oh Chaos.” He hides his face in his hands, being very careful of his still bleeding nose, and Gadget hears his breath hiccup some, as if he’s going to start crying again.

“No!” Gadget yells, almost impulsively. For a second, he’s back there, back in the war, with Infinite floating above him, grabbing his chin, grinning that sharktoothed grin, and he wants to get away from it, these horrible memories that are creating these horrible dreams, these horrible flashbacks. He just wants to go back to before, when he could trust Infinite without flinching or second guessing, but that’s about as possible as the war being a dream. There will be no going back.

This is their new normal: Gadget with bad dreams, self-defensive attacks, Infinite with broken noses, confused, betrayed expressions, this distance between them that Gadget is clawing at, trying to close. Infinite is exhausted and confused, trying to put together the scattered pieces of the last six months, but he can’t when Gadget is still dealing with it himself.

“No, you didn’t,” Gadget mumbles. He can give Infinite this: reassurance that he was bad, but not that bad. “You didn’t do anything like that. We just... fought.”

Infinite visibly deflates, nose still freely bleeding, and Gadget feels filthy, as if he’ll never be able to get rid of this horrible feeling—that he’s a liar, even though he’s telling the truth.

Emergency room again, Infinite’s nose splinted, held together with tape and gauze, a curtain surrounding the bed, Gadget in the visitor’s seat. Silence between them.

Infinite’s nose is numbed; Gadget watched them stick the needle in with blind horror, but he had to watch because of everything that he’d done. He had to stay with him. Still, even after the war, he’s not a fan of needles. He’d been stitched up plenty times, but the needles always got to him. Death robots firing at his face? Piece of cake compared to a needle.

It’s strange, being back here again so soon. People were looking at them, before the curtain was drawn, probably because they knew Eggman’s lackey was a jackal, so every jackal was suspicious. Even the doctor, when he asked why Infinite’s nose was broken, had looked at them with narrow-eyed contempt. Gadget and Infinite had both been quick to say, “Ran into a door,” their agreed upon excuse, and their chorused answer convinced the doctor. He nodded, fixed Infinite up, and told them both to be more careful. He even pulled the curtain as he left, because he could see the eyes too; they weren’t subtle.

“What really happened?” Infinite asks, voice stuffy because of his nose. “During the war?”

Gadget doesn’t want to answer, but he has to. He can feel it, the inevitability, the compelling urge to just get it all out there. Whatever had been holding him back disappeared when his head collided with Infinite’s nose.

So, he tells him. He tells him about how the Ruby took over, how Eggman used its powers to create robots and to destroy everything, capture Sonic, destroy more. How Gadget himself joined the Resistance because there was nothing left, both of the world and of his sense of self, time, and space. It was the only thing he could do, because anger was all he had left—anger and fear.

He tells him how he found Infinite again, how they came face-to-face there, on the battlefield, and how everything had narrowed to just the two of them for a second. How everyone else died around Gadget and he was the only one and Infinite knew it.

How Infinite let him live, how he recognized Gadget, how something cracked then. When he fought Sonic later, and lost, it was the beginning of the end. How things fast-tracked after that, how Infinite went down and disappeared. How Gadget mourned him silently, inconspicuously, even then.

(What he doesn’t tell him: how Infinite grabbed his chin, said those horrible things to him. How Gadget half-wished, in that moment, that Infinite had killed him, because at least then he wouldn’t have to see it anymore—wouldn’t have to see Infinite, so corrupt and unrecognizable.)

The next afternoon they’re at home. It’s quiet, but a comfortable quiet. Infinite is sitting by the radio, large ear piqued to listen to the news. Gadget is scrubbing the floors because cleaning helps him forcefully forget things. They haven’t talked much since the hospital. Infinite took it all in with downcast eyes and ears, fiddling with the threads of the hospital blanket. They slept together in bed, back to back, but didn’t say anything, didn’t touch beyond their spines, slotting together like puzzle pieces.

Now though, Infinite mumbles, “I’m sorry,” to Gadget’s bent back. Gadget freezes, looks up, drops the mop.

“For what?”

“For not remembering.”

Gadget’s brow furrows, and Infinite thinks he’s cute, thinks that if things were different, he would stand, scoop Gadget up and swing him around because he can. But, things aren’t different, and he’s glued to the seat, trapped by his own fear and the giant hole in his memory.

“That’s not your fault,” Gadget answers, mystified.

Infinite shrugs, looks up into Gadget’s face, ignores the flinch when Gadget makes eye contact (and how long until that ends? until Gadget learns to trust him again?), and mutters, “Maybe not, but if I could remember, then I could apologize for what I did.”

Gadget’s brow clears up, his eyebrows rise, and he makes a small ah sound. With barely a whisper of his bare feet on the tile, he ghosts toward Infinite. Gently, he places his hands on Infinite’s shoulders and bends so that they’re on the same level. “It wasn’t really you,” Gadget says. “We’ve talked about this. It wasn’t really you.”

Infinite can’t say what he means, not really. He wants to say I’m sorry for not being in control. I’m sorry for giving in. I’m sorry for not being strong enough. I’m sorry for not loving you enough, you and this world that you live in. I’m sorry for letting something so evil poison me. But he can’t; he doesn’t have the words. So, he just says, “I’m sorry.”

Gadget sighs, picks Infinite’s chin up with a gentle hand, and holds him there, fingers around his jaw. “Listen to me, there’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t you. I’ll have some nightmares and sometimes, from the wrong angle, I won’t recognize you, but that’s not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t help.”

Infinite wants to argue, but Gadget looks so serious, so earnest, that he can’t. His breath catches as he watches Gadget watch him, trying to find a crack in Infinite’s face, and all Infinite can do is nod. He wants nothing more than to give Gadget exactly what he wants, after everything he’s done to him.

“Good.” Gadget lets go and rises. He turns on his heel and goes back to the mopping, cleaning up after their messes like always.

#sonic forces #forces fic #sonic the hedgehog #infidget #ashe writes #ashe talks #i will take this hammer and fix canon #no one can stop me

112 notes · View notes