Archive of Our Own ^beta

Andrew wakes up on his twenty-seventh birthday to an empty bed, which was not what he wanted. He glances up towards the ceiling and sees that the skylight has been closed. Neil must have done that when he had woken up. There is the faint sound of dishes moving from the kitchen. 

The cabin itself is small; three rooms in total. A kitchen that opens into a living room, a bedroom, and a large bathroom. Andrew had picked it mainly for the retractable skylight, allowing guests to have a view of the night sky and for the large tub in the bathroom. He had ensured that he and Neil had spent a good amount of time in the tub. 

Stephen and Joe are in the cabin next door, and satisfyingly, there only appears to be one other couple at the campgrounds. No one seems interested in visiting Iceland in November; who would have guessed? (Andrew knew, which was why he insisted on it). 

Andrew and Neil had spent the past ten days bundled up indoors on the cabin’s plush couch, much to Andrew’s hidden delight. Neil had insisted on a few hikes to some waterfalls, but the sharp sting of the wind eventually pushed him back indoors. Andrew had gotten Stephen and Joe to scout a few bookstores he wanted to visit, a coffeehouse or two. Once they had cleared the places, Andrew and Neil had snuck in during the early morning hours or late at night, and had enjoyed time in public together. 

No one seemed to care. Or, Andrew muses to himself, burrowing further under the sheets, maybe Neil just isn’t very popular in Iceland. Maybe the Icelanders were too loyal to Bjork. 

Mostly though, they had stuck to the campgrounds. There were a few trails nearby and Neil had run a few of them in the early afternoons, while Andrew stayed home and made hot chocolate and tea for his return. Andrew could watch for Neil’s journey back to him, his auburn hair standing out like a beacon against the sparse, snowy landscape. 

Their vacation in Iceland was coming to a close, unfortunately. Neil has to get back to working on his next album, and Andrew, well. Andrew didn’t necessarily have any new projects lined up next. He would eventually have to do the press tour for Hamlet, but that wouldn’t happen for at least another year. 

Maybe Wymack could find him a smaller production; an Indie arthouse film, or a small off-Broadway play. Something to keep him busy, but not too busy. And nothing until after New Year’s, Andrew decides. He plans on spending the holiday season with Neil. Preferably, uninterrupted from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. 

Neil pokes his head into the room, and Andrew’s heart leaps traitorously. Andrew had caught himself wondering, these past months, if he had dreamt the entire thing. Dreamt Neil writing Suit, dreamt Neil confessing to him, dreamt Neil spending most of his waking moments watching Andrew as if he was something precious. Dreamt that finally, finally, he had Neil in his arms, always within reach, always where he had secretly wanted him. 

“Are you awake,” Neil asks quietly, grinning excitedly. Andrew does his best to remain as still as possible. Neil’s eyes narrow, “Andrew, I know you’re awake.” Andrew remains quiet. It is his birthday. Neil was supposed to wake up with him. 

Neil sighs heavily, dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to give these double chocolate chip pancakes that I made with such care and devotion to Stephen and Joe.”

Andrew’s curiosity wins. “How are they double chocolate chip,” he asks, peering over the comforter at Neil. 

 “The batter itself is chocolate and I added chocolate chips,” Neil answers, pride coloring his voice. He’s holding a tray with a large stack of pancakes, and two cups of coffee. Andrew decides that he would accept this as an apology for waking up Neil-less on his birthday. He tells Neil as much. 

Neil laughs as he makes his way over to the bed, placing the tray on Andrew’s bedside table. “Happy birthday, Andrew,” he murmurs as he gets closer, placing a kiss on Andrew’s forehead, after silently asking permission. Andrew feels a warmth in his chest as he watches Neil delicately climb back into the bed, cradling his cup of coffee to his chest. 

He takes a bite of the pancakes, has to suppress a groan, and begins shoveling them into his mouth. Neil smirks at him, “Do you like them?” 

“They taste like dirt,” Andrew replies through his fifth bite. 

Neil snorts. “That sucks, because I practiced them. Oh, well,” Neil shrugs, smiling behind his coffee cup. 

Andrew stills. Neil had practiced making him a birthday breakfast surprise, and had somehow gotten all the ingredients to the cabin while Andrew was asleep, then had woken up early to make them for Andrew. There was a lump in his throat. No one, outside of Bee, had ever spent so much time on an attempt to make him happy. 

Neil, ever in tune with Andrew’s body language, begins to shift away, but Andrew pulls him back. “No, stay,” Andrew demands quietly. Neil nods, and positions himself next to Andrew again. Andrew steadily makes his way through the stack of pancakes, sipping his coffee in between bites. 

When he’s done, Neil places his coffee cup on his bedside table and turns to Andrew. “So, I have options for you.” 

“Options?” Andrew raises an eyebrow at Neil, willing his face to remain blank. 

“Options,” Neil repeats seriously. “We can stay in bed, and take a nap, or-” 

Andrew cuts him off, “That one. Lay down.” 

Neil barks out a laugh, “Drew, you haven’t even-” 

“And I don’t need to,” Andrew interrupts again, pushing Neil into the position he wants. He pulls the comforter over their shoulders, and prods at Neil’s side, until the redhead flips over, his back to Andrew’s chest. Andrew pulls him in, slotting his knees behind Neil’s, and burying his nose in the ridge of Neil’s spine. He slides one arm under Neil’s pillow, and the other around his waist, tightening gently for a moment. 

Neil lets out a sigh of happiness, his body melting against Andrew, who tries, very hard, to suppress a roar of triumph. Neil had picked him, chosen him, over everyone else in the world. No one else could make his rabbit feel this safe and secure. And no one ever would, Andrew thought to himself. Not if he had anything to say about it. 

—-

Andrew wakes up a second time with his forehead pressed against one of Neil’s shoulders. The man in question is typing on his phone, in a pattern Andrew has come to recognize as writing song lyrics. Andrew grumbles at Neil, they weren’t supposed to be doing any work on this trip. 

Neil locks his phone, and tosses it aside. He twists to face Andrew, and the pair end up nose to nose. Neil grins at Andrew, who stares impassively back. “I was just writing down some thoughts,” he explains quietly, his hand coming up to card through Andrew’s hair. 

“You don’t have any thoughts,” Andrew replies immediately, closing his eyes and pretending not to enjoy Neil’s attention. 

“That can’t be true,” Neil muses, in a tone Andrew recognizes as what Neil thinks is sly. Andrew cracks an eye open to give Neil an unimpressed look. “I definitely had the thought to plan out a great birthday.” Andrew regards him with suspicion. “What,” Neil questions, “Did you think the festivities ended with pancakes?” 

Andrew scoffs and burrows deeper into the comforter. “I’m far too old now for festivities.” 

Neil dramatically sighs, rolling away from Andrew. “Too bad,” he muses. “I’ll just  cancel that private hot springs reservation.”

Andrew goes still. He hates that this is working on him. He weighs the options silently. The correct choice is clear. Andrew rolls out of the bed and stalks over to their luggage. “Put your pants on and take me to the hot spring.” Neil bounds out of the bed with excitement, reaching for his phone to text Joe and Stephen, Andrew assumes. 

Neil takes the breakfast tray back to the kitchen while Andrew gets ready. When Neil doesn’t return, Andrew wanders out into the kitchen to find him. Neil is standing at the sink, staring out distractedly across the snowy ground. Andrew makes a noise, so Neil knows Andrew is walking up behind him, and Neil turns around to smile at him. Andrew slides his arms around Neil’s stomach and looks out over the snow with Neil for a few moments. 

“Would you run away with me?” Neil asks suddenly. 

“Yes,” Andrew replies without hesitation. “But not here. It’s too cold.” 

“Where do you suggest then?” Andrew can hear the laughter hiding in Neil’s question, and he buries his nose in Neil’s shoulder. 

“Greece. Better weather,” Andrew decides. There’s a few moments of silence, then he asks, “Do you want to run away?” 

Neil pauses, considering the question. “No,” he finally replies slowly. “I like what I’ve built too much to run away from it. But, I’ve liked this. Us, together.” 

Andrew nods, considers the new apartment he’s been looking at, with large windows in the main bedroom, and a room down the hall that’s big enough to host Neil’s ridiculous amount of instruments. He somehow knows that now isn’t the right time to ask Neil, but soon. 

“I’ve liked it too,” Andrew says into the nape of Neil’s neck, the words too vulnerable to say face to face. Neil hums in return, and gives Andrew’s hands a quick squeeze. Andrew trails his hands to Neil’s sides, and pushes him towards the bedroom. “Go get ready,” Andrew instructs. 

Neil throws a grin at Andrew over his shoulder, and disappears from view. 

—--

By the time Neil, Andrew, Stephen, and Joe arrive at the hot spring, Neil is nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement. Andrew has known that Neil had always been a fan of warm baths to soothe his scarred skin, but with the recent addition of Andrew, there’s been a noticeable increase in the amount of baths the redhead takes. 

Andrew surveys the parking lot and notices the lack of cars. He raises an eyebrow at Neil, who only shrugs. “I told you I rented the hot springs.” Andrew can only stare at him, hoping his disbelief isn’t plastered across his face. 

The four of them walk into the lobby, where a single young man is waiting for them. Neil walks up to him, media smile firmly in place, and Andrew watches as the man visibly swallows nervously. 

“Hi, my name is Neil. I have a reservation for two rooms?” 

“Yes! I can get you all checked in. My name is Ben!” Ben chirps high and grating, clearly anxious about making a good impression. 

“That sounds wonderful, Ben,” Neil says smoothly. He turns to Stephen and Joe, “My security team has a few forms they need to go over with you. NDAs that we sent to your boss a few weeks back? Have you been able to sign them and review them?” Andrew blinks at that. A few weeks? Neil had been planning this for a few weeks? 

“Yes, absolutely,” Ben confirms. “All the forms have been signed and notarized, by my boss and myself. She’s setting up the final touches in each room. She should be out shortly to escort you all to your rooms.” 

Neil gives Ben one more blinding grin, and then lets Stephen and Joe take over. He wanders back over to Andrew and plops down on a bench to wait. Andrew carefully sits down next to him. “A few weeks,” he quietly questions Neil. 

Neil hums in agreement. “A few weeks.” He smiles at Andrew, softer, realer than the smile he gave Ben. “It’s your birthday, Drew.” His eyes crinkle and he leans into Andrew’s orbit, as if he can’t fight against the pull of Andrew’s gravity. 

Andrew stiffens, “I don’t need this.” Neil didn’t need to prove his devotion to Andrew. Andrew didn’t want to be showered in gifts for Neil to be able to prove a point. 

Neil gazed steadily back at him, “I wanted to do it, Andrew. You’ve given me the best 8 months of my life, so far. I’m glad you were born, and I’m glad you’re in my life. If this is too much, we can leave, and go back to the cabin. I only want to spend time with you.” 

A wave of tension leaves Andrew’s body. Neil always gave him a choice. Neil’s shoulder brushes his and Andrew slides closer to him on the bench, pressing their sides together firmly. Neil lets out a soft sigh of contentment, and Andrew watches as a short brunette woman joins Ben at the front desk. 

Stephen and Joe seem to be wrapping up their conversation, and are waiting on them to join them at the desk again. Neil stares ahead, giving Andrew privacy to make his choice. Andrew sighs heavily, and stands up, offering his hand to Neil, who immediately takes it, weaving their fingers together with a smile. 

“Let’s go see what all the fuss is about,” Andrew tells Neil, and brings their fingers up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss. 

“It’s just mud and hot water,” Neil says in mock flippancy, his eyes giving away his excitement. 

“If you put mud on my face, I’m leaving you here.” Andrew tugs him towards the others, while Neil snorts. 

—-- 

There is mud on Andrew’s face. He sighs in resignation, but allows Neil to trace gentle fingers over his cheekbones, painting the clay onto his skin. “It’s good for your skin,” Neil says in response to Andrew’s sighs.  

“So is sunscreen, but you don’t see me using that.” The moment the words leave Andrew’s mouth, he realizes his mistake. Neil’s lips are in a thin line, and his brows are furrowed. He opens his mouth, but Andrew beats him to it. “I am not wearing daily sunscreen.” 

Neil holds up his clay covered fingers in a placating gesture. “When I still look young and beautiful in 30 years, and you’re old and crusty, it’ll be your own fault.” 

“Good,” Andrew glares at Neil, knowing that it’s undermined by the clay mask. Neil fondly rolls his eyes, and Andrew watches him slowly drift around the hot spring. The hot spring itself had been a large body of water that the original owners had split up into smaller outdoor sections. Each section had a room with a shower and small changing area that also led back to the main lobby. Walls kept the sections divided, but Andrew knew that if he wanted to shout for Joe, he would most likely be heard.  Andrew looks up at the clear, blue sky, and idly wonders how many stars he would be able to see at night. 

Andrew watches as Neil bobs back over to his side, and Andrew holds out his arm. Neil lights up and presses himself firmly against Andrew’s side, under his arm. He lays a gentle kiss on Andrew’s bare shoulder, and Andrew, once again, has to suppress a shiver that threatens to run down his spine. 

The pair sit in silence for a while, and Andrew can feel the water relaxing his muscles. Finally, Neil wades over to the stairs that lead up to the tiny porch and grabs two washcloths. He soaks the washcloths in the water as he heads back over to Andrew. Andrew graciously allows Neil to wipe the clay mask off his face since it's his birthday. Neil scrubs at his own face, then tosses the rags back towards the stairs. 

“What’s next,” Andrew asks suddenly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

Neil swims back over to him, “Well, I rented out a bookstore for an hour. So, you can browse for books in peace. Then, I got all the ingredients to make that risotto you like. Then, I was thinking we can make hot chocolate and look for the Northern Lights.” 

Andrew blinks at him. Stares at Neil in silence, as his mind spins its wheels. Neil has, quite literally, planned a perfect day. He swallows, and tries to conjure up the correct words to express his gratitude. The words fail him. But, Neil doesn’t. 

Neil presses a gentle kiss to Andrew’s shoulder. “After that, we have two more days in Iceland. We can do whatever you want. I’ve seen all the waterfalls I need to see.” He grins at Andrew, whose heart thumps traitorously, loudly, in his chest. Surely, Neil has to be able to see his pulse racing. He’s close enough that Andrew can pick out the different shades of ice blue in his eyes. Glacial blue, frozen Iceland waterfall blue, winter arctic sky blue. Why can’t he stop naming colors? Why can’t he get the words out? 

“After that ,” Neil continues, clearly not picking up on Andrew’s internal meltdown, “we’ll go home. And we’ll keep being Neil and Andrew. Because I’m yours.” Neil pauses, “And I hope you’re mine,” he adds shyly at the end. 

Andrew swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “I’m yours,” he manages to rasp out, the words tearing through his throat like shards of glass. 

Neil smiles at him, “And I’m yours.” Equal in all things, nothing being taken by force, everything being given freely. Neil settles down next to Andrew, humming a few bars of some song Andrew doesn’t recognize. Andrew sinks into the water to rest his head on Neil’s shoulder, who places his head on top of Andrew’s. Maybe it’s a new song, Andrew thinks to himself, as he lets himself drift for a bit. Desperately willing his heart to stop racing. 

— 

Andrew enters into the lobby, only to realize he’s the only one there. Joe and Stephen haven’t made their way out, and Neil is still in the shower where Andrew left him with wobbly legs. As intended, Andrew thinks smugly to himself. 

Ben is still at his desk, and he perks up when he sees Andrew. Andrew sighs to himself. He knows it would be rude to go back into the small room to wait for Neil, and considering the events of the past few weeks, he could afford some good press. He nods silently at Ben, who grins at him excitedly, and sits down on the bench to wait for Neil. 

“I really like both of your works,” Ben offers into the silence. Andrew steels himself to play nice for a few minutes. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Neil’s most recent albums got me through a bad breakup, and your films made me want to be a writer.” Andrew cocks an eyebrow at this, and Ben rushes to explain, “Because I want to write about films! I want to be a film critic!” He flushes red, clearly a bit mortified. 

Andrew clears his throat, “Are you any good?” 

“What?” 

He has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Writing about films. Are you any good at it?” 

“Oh! I’ve never been formally published, but I have a blog,” Ben explains. 

“Tell me,” Andrew says. Ben hesitates. “Half the battle in this industry is knowing someone,” Andrew explains, sighing. “Tell me your blog, and if you’re any good, I can help put you in contact with someone.” 

“BenWatchesMovies.com,” Ben rushes out, looking sheepish. “I don’t have a good name for it yet.” 

“It states your intent. That’s good enough,” Andrew says in an even tone. He hopes the conversation will end here. 

Ben grins excitedly, “Thank you, Mr. Minyard. I really appreciate you even looking at it.” He takes a breath, “I hope you had a good time here at the hot springs! You and your,” he pauses awkwardly, “boyfriend?” He looks to Andrew in confusion. 

“Call it what you want,” Andrew says blandly. 

“Significant other?” Ben tries again, grimacing at his own hesitant tone. 

“Call it what you want,” Andrew repeats with a little more force. Ben drops it, gives Andrew a quick nod, and goes back to his typing. There’s a shuffling noise off to the side, and Andrew turns to see Neil standing in the doorway with an inscrutable look on his face. This makes Andrew pause. Neil is never not understandable. Not to Andrew, not to him. 

Did he hear? Andrew’s stomach twists for a brief moment, before settling. Neil would understand what he meant. Neil always understands what he means. He doesn’t care what others call them, as long as Andrew gets to have Neil. 

“Neil,” Andrew calls out, and Neil blinks a few times, before making his way over to Andrew’s side. Joe and Stephen trail out behind Neil a few moments later, and the four of them leave the building. Neil is silent, and has a far off look in his eye that Andrew doesn’t like. Neil follows Joe and Stephen to the car, the parking lot still silent and empty. No flashing cameras, or screaming mobs. 

Andrew turns back around, and gives Ben a final nod. “Thank you,” he gestures outside, and somehow Ben gets it. 

“Even if you hadn’t had me sign an NDA, I wouldn’t have said anything. Nobody deserves to be treated like that.” He’s clearly referring to the press publishing those photos of them in Scotland, and Andrew hates him a little for it. 

“I’m going to read your blog,” Andrew says in return. Ben grins at him and waves him out the lobby. Andrew clambers into the backseat, to find Neil furiously typing on his phone. 

Stephen starts driving into town, heading towards the bookstore, Andrew assumes. Neil locks his phone, and shakes his head, seemingly trying to clear it. 

“What was that about,” he asks, nodding towards the hot springs, fading into the distance. 

Andrew shows him his phone, which has Ben’s blog pulled up on the screen. Neil scrunches his nose, his eyes skimming quickly over the words. He hums in consideration, “Are you going to send it to Wymack?” 

“Maybe,” Andrew replies. “Depends on if it’s any good.” Neil nods in agreement, and Andrew turns back to his phone, reading Ben’s most recent post on the latest adaptation of the life of Queen Mary. Neil turns back to his phone as well, scrolling and typing through his notes app. One hand he places upturned on the seat in between them, an offering. 

Andrew takes it. 

—--

Neil is bouncing on the balls of his feet behind Andrew while he unlocks the door. Andrew knows Neil is up to something, but he hasn’t figured out what yet. Andrew walks into the cabin's cozy living room and dumps his coat on the armchair. 

“Out with it,” he demands, and Neil’s eyes go wide. 

“Out with what,” he replies innocently, as he lowers Andrew’s bag of books onto the kitchen table. 

Andrew scoffs at him. “That innocent act doesn’t work with me, rabbit.” 

Neil’s mouth twists up, and he thinks about his words for once; Andrew is pleased. “I need you to make dinner without me,” Neil finally says, while taking off his coat and putting it on the back of a kitchen chair.

“Make my own birthday dinner?” Andrew raises an eyebrow incredously. 

Neil groans, “It sounds bad when you say it like that.” 

“I said it how you said it,” Andrew retorts, coming to stand in front of Neil. 

“Okay, okay.” Neil takes a deep breath, “I’ve been writing another song for you, and I think I can finish it by the time you finish dinner, and then, I can sing it to you for your birthday.” Neil lowers his arms onto Andrew’s shoulders after a nod, gently tugging Andrew into his chest. “Is that okay?” 

Andrew feels his heart skip a beat. “You wrote me another song?” He slides his hands around Neil’s waist and presses his fingers into Neil’s lower back, tracing up his spine. 

Neil hums in approval. “I did, but it’s not done yet. I can work on it after dinner, if you need help. But,” Neil pauses, and presses his forehead against Andrew’s, “the sooner I finish, the sooner I can sing it to you.” 

Andrew mulls his options. He could keep his pride and say that he could wait for Neil to sing another song to him, about him. Serenading him on his birthday, in Iceland, on the perfect day he planned for Andrew, under the Northern Lights. Andrew’s pulse skittered sideways, and he shoved down the fluttering feeling in his stomach. 

“You won’t be of any use to me in the kitchen anyway,” Andrew sighs. “Might as well go work on your song.” 

Neil smirks at him, and Andrew scowls. “Promise I won’t take too long,” Neil says, before pressing a kiss to Andrew’s forehead. Neil grabs his guitar and makes his way into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Andrew takes a deep breath, and tries not to think about Neil writing another song about him. That Neil will then sing to him on his birthday. 

Fuck. 

—- 

Neil smiles at him from across the table. “Are you ready?” Andrew’s heart kick starts into a steady beat. 

“I suppose,” he says evenly, making his way over to the couch. Neil grins at him, picks up his guitar, and makes his way over to the floor in front of Andrew. He takes a seat on the plush rug, and strums a few chords. He finds the one he’s searching for and then smiles shyly at Andrew. 

“I don’t have a name for it yet,” Neil takes a deep breath, “here it goes.” Andrew sits very still and tries not to wake up from whatever dream he’s in. 

Neil starts to strum a gentle rhythm, and takes a quick breath. “My castle crumbled overnight, I brought a knife to a gunfight. They took the crown, but it's alright. All the liars are calling me one. Nobody's heard from me for months. I'm doing better than I ever was.” He flashes a quick grin at Andrew, who has forgotten how to breathe. Was the castle his parents’ house? Was the castle the walls Neil had built around himself after rehab? Andrew felt himself watching Neil’s mouth with a vague detachment while his thoughts were spinning out of control. 

“Cause my baby's fit like a daydream, Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to, ” Neil winks at Andrew when he sings the endearment, but Andrew barely registers it. Neil had taken what Andrew had said about them and turned it into a song. He can’t seem to register anything but the sound of Neil’s voice. 

Neil keeps singing softly, “My baby's fly like a jet stream, High above the whole scene, Loves me like I'm brand new. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.” Not only had Neil taken what Andrew said, turned it into a deviously unassuming love song; he had also understood Andrew completely, once again. Andrew was burning from the inside out. 

Taking another breath, Neil launches into the second verse, “ All the drama queens taking swings, All the jokers dressin' up as kings, They fade to nothing when I look at him. And I know I make the same mistakes every time, Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right, I did one thing right.” Neil dramatically points the head of his guitar at Andrew when he sings the last line, grinning at whatever he’s seeing on Andrew’s face. 

“I'm laughing with my lover, making forts under covers, Trust him like no other, yeah, you know I did one thing right, Golden eyes sparkin' up my darkest night.” Neil began the second round of the chorus, and Andrew forces himself to take what feels like his first breath in years. Neil heard Andrew and understood him. Call us whatever you want. There’s not a word big enough for us. 

Neil starts the bridge, “I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck, chain round my neck. Not because he owns me, But 'cause he really knows me, Which is more than they can say.” During the line, Neil makes direct eye contact with Andrew, glacial eyes boring into his. 

And Andrew knows. Knows that Neil would willingly flay himself open over and over again for Andrew, so that Andrew can know all of his inner workings. Knows that Neil would happily let Andrew go over all of him with a fine tooth comb to learn all of his secrets. Knows that Neil would never let another soul as close as Andrew. There’s something tight in Andrew’s chest. 

“I recall this November, holdin' my breath. Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me, But would you run away with me?" Yes,”  Neil smiles cheekily at Andrew recalling their recent conversation, while Andrew huffs in amusement. Nonsense, he would always save Neil if needed. 

“My baby's fly like a jet stream, High above the whole scene, Loves me like I'm brand new, So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to,” Neil sings the last line looking up at Andrew with a tentatively hopeful expression. Andrew watches him calmly, trying to quell the furious storm in his chest. 

Neil stops strumming the guitar and watches Andrew, waiting for a response. The silence settles for a few moments as Andrew tries to gather himself back from the pieces Neil shattered him into. Neil places the guitar to the side, then seems to regret that decision and begins to fidget with his hands. “Andrew?” 

“Yes or no,” Andrew manages to get out. 

Neil cautiously lights up, “Yes.” 

Andrew slides off the couch and crawls into Neil’s lap, grasping his chin and kissing him firmly. Neil melts into Andrew, and he pushes Neil down to the carpet, dragging Neil’s hands up to his hair. “Waist and up,” he murmurs into Neil’s mouth. Neil frantically nods, trying to continue their kiss while Andrew is talking. His fingers tighten in Andrew’s hair, and a shiver runs down Andrew’s spine. 

Andrew tightens his legs around Neil’s waist as he busies himself kissing a path down Neil’s neck. Neil lets out a whimper that travels straight to Andrew’s toes, making them curl. “I take it you liked the song,” Neil asked breathily, smiling dazedly up at Andrew. 

He scowls down at Neil, whose red hair stands out against the white carpet. “If you wanted a necklace with my initials on it, all you had to do was ask,” Andrew informs him, nipping at his lower lip. Neil moans, his hips twitching under Andrew, who has to suppress a groan of his own. 

“I meant it Andrew,” Neil whispers, his hands traveling down Andrew’s back. “Call us whatever you want. As long as we’re us, I don’t care.” 

Andrew glares at him, and Neil stares defiantly back. Andrew sits back for a moment, looking at the red head sprawled out underneath him. Neil’s chest is rising and falling quickly, and his eyes gleaming in the low light of the cabin. 

“You’re mine,” Andrew says firmly, and he leans down to kiss Neil softly. “And I’m yours.” He clambers off Neil, who looks disappointed. “The bed is more comfortable, rabbit.”  Neil grins at him, and takes the hand Andrew is offering him. Andrew slides his arms around Neil’s waist and says, “Call It What You Want.” Neil makes a questioning sound, and Andrew rolls his eyes. 

“The title of the song: Call It What You Want.” 

Neil’s eyes brighten, and he nods agreeably, “It’s perfect.” He kisses Andrew once more, before whispering, “Happy birthday, Andrew Minyard.”