Chapter Text
ANDREW
Andrew’s phone rings on the drive to Columbia. Andrew flips it open.
“Coach,” he greets.
“Seth overdosed again. He didn’t survive this time.”
“Sounds like tough luck. Are we still clear to play for the season?”
“Once you’re cleared to play, we will be allowed back on court.”
Andrew hangs up and slips his phone into one of the cupholders.
“Who was that?” Kevin asks.
“Coach. Seth overdosed again.”
“Shit.”
“No Exy until I’m cleared.”
His soulmate speaks up from the backseat. “I don’t think it was an accident.”
“What do you mean?” Kevin asks, brow furrowing.
“I mean, I think Riko did it. As revenge after Kathy’s show the other day.”
Andrew pulls up to the Columbia house.
“Get some sleep. We’re going home tomorrow. We’ll discuss this then.”
Andrew unlocks the front door before tossing the key at his soulmate. Abram catches it. The others file into the house. Andrew watches as he peers down at the key. As he walks into the house he hears Abram whisper.
“Home.”
All of the rooms were taken and Kevin was going to be sitting on the couch. Aaron would never let Abram sleep in his bed, and Andrew didn’t trust Nicky enough to keep his hands to himself. Which left only one option: Andrew’s.
“I can sleep on the floor, if you want,” Abram says hesitantly.
“No, you need rest after the game,” Andrew says. “If you feel uncomfortable sharing, I could sleep on the floor.”
“No, you’re still healing from being stabbed, you are not sleeping on the floor.”
“Problem solved then, we’re sharing.”
“Right,” Abram says before slipping off his sweatpants and climbing under the many blankets. Andrew grabs his black onesie before heading to the bathroom to change. By the time he walks back out, Abram was already fast asleep, exhausted after the Exy game that night. He walks back downstairs to get a glass of water, only to realize the couch was empty. Finally, those two pining idiots got together. Andrew grabs a blanket before sleeping on the couch. His junkie could have the bed.
-
After Andrew wakes up he walks outside to smoke a cigarette. The reason he didn’t change into clean clothes *definitely* wasn’t because he didn’t want to disturb Abram. The door creaks open as Abram walks up to rest against the porch railing beside Andrew.
“You didn’t sleep in the bed last night.”
“The couch was empty.”
“Where was Kevin?”
“Sleeping with Aaron finally.”
Abram frowns. “They can’t take their relationship public. They would get lots of negative feedback.”
Andrew nods. “The world just can’t support true love, even though soulmates exist.”
Abram sighs softly.
Andrew hands him a cigarette, and Abram breathes in the smell of it. “Thanks,” Abram breathes. “When did you start smoking?”
“It’s a habit I picked up while in juvie. Unsurprisingly, there is a black market of drugs where I was,” Andrew replies, taking another drag from his cigarette. “How ‘bout you?”
“A few months after I burned my mom’s body,” Abram replies. “Why’d you pull away so fast on the roof the other day?”
Andrew drums his fingers on the railing, brushing off peeling white paint as he does so. “You know what happened between me and Drake, and one of my worst fears is becoming like him,” Andrew breathes out harshly at the memory. Abram opens his mouth, but Andrew doesn’t let the annoying idiot interrupt him. “We’re soulmates, destined to get together. So, when I kiss you, is there really a choice, or is Fate tugging on strings to get us together?”
“Andrew,” Abram sighs, running a hand through his dark curls. “You will *never* be like Drake. I chose to kiss you. It might be fate that we meet, but it is our choice if we want to get together. Many soulmates end up splitting up. We are not held together by fate. I want *you.*”
Andrew’s fingers stutter to a stop on where they had been tapping for the past few minutes. “Then can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Abram breathes out. Andrew pushes him against the railing before kissing him like he was life and Andrew was a dying man. Abram’s lips trail down to his jaw. That damn bastard starts nipping on that one fucking spot. A soft moan escapes Andrew’s lips and his cheeks immediately flame. Those stupid lips smile against Andrew’s neck before meeting Andrew’s lips again. In revenge for devouring his neck, Andrew pushes his hips against Abram’s. Sparks shoot down his body at the sensation, but it has the desired reaction, as Abram tilts his head back and lets out a strangled moan.
“Fuck, ‘Drew,” he whines. Andrew pulls away, but leaves a hand on Abram’s narrow hips.
“Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” Andrew pulls him inside with the hand on his hip. He takes them to the kitchen where Andrew bakes them some french toast and eggs. Andrew hesitates for a moment before throwing a handful of powdered sugar at his signature. Abram sits there coated with powder before turning a blue eyed glare at Andrew.
“Oh you’re on,” he growls and before Andrew can react, his soulmate was squirting syrup at him. Andrew grabs a pan to use as a shield before grabbing the egg carton. Abram stood in fear at the sight. “Fuck.” Andrew throws the eggs at him with deadly accuracy.
Abram blows a string of unborn chickens off of his face before lunging at Andrew. Andrew throws the pan to the side and grabs the bag of bread. Abram knocks Andrew to the floor before pinning him down. “Is this okay?” He asks.
“Yes,” Andrew says, hands landing on Abram’s waist to hold him in place.
“Could I kiss you?” Abram asks.
“Yes.” Andrew rolls his eyes. Abram crushes his lips to Andrew’s before immediately softening the kiss. Fingers slide into Andrew’s hair, and he willingly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. Abram does the same, and their tongues slide together, eliciting a startled gasp from Abram. Andrew rocks Abram's hips against his lightly. The dark-haired man moans lightly into the kiss.
“What the fuck happened here?” Andrew recognizes his brother’s sleepy voice. The pair jolt apart before standing up, both sporting a half hard dick.
“Oh, it’s the lovebirds,” Kevin mumbles.
“Says you,” Abram retorts, his lips plump and red from their kiss. Kevin mutters in unintelligible French under his breath before grabbing a slice of french toast off the counter.
Aaron rubs his eyes. “Seth died last night. Right.”
“And the sight of me reminds you of that?”
“Right, we better get back to Palmetto,” Andrew sighs, absolutely done with these shits already.