andreil + sleeping on the couch together and matt kinda scares andrew awake and andrew has a tiny panic and shoves neil off the couch and neil smacks his head against something and scrapes his cheekbone and andreil ends up sitting in the bathroom with neil sitting down and andrew making sure his boy didnt break his nose or have another fucking concussion
Hey! Thanks for the prompt <3 I hope you like what I came up with! this turned out a lil angsty, yikes.
Keep the prompts coming, folks! I have exams and need a distraction. (Everyone’s been giving me prompts in which Neil gets hurt? :D poor boy)
They’ve cuddled in on the couch, Neil in front of Andrew, which is a rare occurrence as it is, but it’s even rarer at the dorms. But Andrew has been sniffling and sneezing lately, and Neil’s legs feel like lead from night practice and so they dozed off while watching tv. None of them is really deeply asleep, both of them in a state somewhere between sleep and rest, but it’s more than enough to startle the shit out of them when suddenly the door slams shut.
Andrew sits up, body stiffened immediately, curtesy of too many times when a noise like this meant very bad things were coming, and whips his head around, only to see Matt, one hand still on the doorknob, wincing guiltily. “Fuck, sorry, guys. The wind caught the door.” Then he peeks around Andrew, “Um, is Neil-”
Andrew scowls at him, and growls “Leave.”, Matt just lifts his hands apologetically and hurries off. When Andrew turns back around, he is momentarily confused for a split-second- where is Neil? But then he hears a groan and realized he must have pushed Neil off the couch when he jerked awake. Neil is already sitting up and rubbing his face.
“…ouch.”, the striker mumbles sleepily and looks up at Andrew with bleary eyes. Andrew is about to lean down and pull Neil back up, but then, Neil pulls his hand back, and there’s blood on his palm and on a cut on his cheekbone.
Andrew’s world constricts for a moment, and then a sticky, disgusting feeling spreads through his body. Neil is hurt. Neil is bleeding. He pushed Neil off the couch and now Neil is bleeding. Fuck.
Neil looks at his hand in awe, still sleepy, and then wipes it off on his jeans. It’s so little that it barely leaves a stain. But Andrew’s gaze is focused on the cut in his cheekbone.
“Andrew, I’m f-”
“Don’t.” Andrew’s voice is sharp and then he’s up and dragging Neil into the bathroom while his stomach is churning. Neil keeps insisting that he’s okay, and the cut isn’t even deep and he’s barely bleeding and he’s had so much worse.
But Andrew feels like his hands are going to clench so hard that he’s going to break his own fingers if he can’t make sure Neil is really, truly okay right now. He swore to protect him and now he hurt him. Neil, especially Neil’s face, has been through enough already.
Neil keeps protesting, but Andrew makes him sit down on the edge of the tub, and then searches the bathroom cabinet for desinfectant and a band-aid, throwing everything else out into the sink carelessly. Neil has stopped protesting, and watches him quietly now.
When Andrew’s found what he’s been looking for, he steps in between Neil’s legs, and takes his face in his palms, turning Neil’s head, looking at his pupils, his nose, his lips and teeth. Nothing else seems hurt, and that makes the sticky feeling in his chest the tiniest bit better.
Quietly, he wipes the cut clean, and puts a band-aid on it. Then he steps back and takes his hands off Neil as if Neil burnt him.
Neil looks at him and Andrew wants to punch him or pull his own hair out because the way Neil’s blue eyes focus on him and his lower lip stands out a little makes his heart go faster and it sucks and Andrew just hates him so much.
“Andrew…” How can someone’s voice be so soft? Fuck Josten and his soft voice. Andrew turns around and goes to the door. Neil lets him.
And hour and half a pack of cigarettes later, Neil finds him on the roof. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits down next to him and steals his cigarette.
He finishes it while Andrew stares off in the distance. After Neil has stubbbed the cigarette out, he slowly turns to look at Andrew.
“Andrew, I’m okay. Things like this happen. You didn’t-”
“Stop talking.”, Andrew says without looking at Neil. Neil obliges, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Andrew.
After two minutes or five or ten, Neil opens his mouth again.
“…you could kiss it better, if you wanted to.” His voice is a low purr, and Andrew just hates how easily it makes the sticky feeling turn differently sticky, hot like molasses, from his neck to the bottom of his spine and his lower abdomen.
Andrew slowly turns his head and leans in just a little. The eagerness with which Neil shifts towards him and the way his breath hitches just a little makes the feeling Andrew’s dealing with right now even worse. Or better, maybe.
“Next time you say something this cheesy, I’ll throw you off the roof.”, he growls, and then closes the gap between their mouths.