quicksand bot @quicksandbot

bot quoting lines from quicksand by likearecord on ao3 archiveofourown.org/works/35595136 Joined May 2022

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quicksand bot @quicksandbot

3 years ago

“I’ve never met a celebrity before,” Andrew tells him drily. “I am very excited.” “Oh, fuck all the way off,” Neil says. The words are sharp but his tone is soft and amused. “They don’t actually know who did it.”

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3 years ago

Andrew slides his hands into Neil’s hair and presses their foreheads together, keeping his eyes open so he can watch the play of confusion over Neil’s face—and especially the moment that confusion shifts into analysis and calculation.

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3 years ago

But mostly, Neil is interesting. Neil is Andrew’s very own urban legend. Neil is a skinny, freckle-faced kid with braces and red knees, a menace in miniature, twisting the world around his fingers until it’s shaped the way he wants it to be.

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3 years ago

“Sleeping,” Neil says. “If I’m the inferior sibling, I guess you and I can bond over how much we have in common.” Oh, Andrew likes this. Andrew really likes this.

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3 years ago

Andrew wants to kiss him so badly that he aches with it. He’s never been angrier. He’s never hated someone more than he hates Neil Wymack at this moment.

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3 years ago

But he slides his hands over Andrew’s shoulders, looping them around his neck. Andrew hugs Neil around the ribs and he feels it, physically, the shift in Neil—the loosening of his body, the amount of space the exhale he lets out must have been taking up in his lungs.

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3 years ago

What he does instead is hum thoughtfully and say, “Bullshit.” Neil flashes him a quick, sad, sideways smile. He says, “My speciality,” with a lightness that doesn’t fool Andrew for even one second.

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3 years ago

“Mind your own business,” Andrew tells Neil sternly. “You sound like your brother.” “You take that back,” Neil orders.

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3 years ago

Neil didn’t get any less gorgeous fully clothed, not even with his hair an unstyled mess on the top of his head and his clothes obviously thrown on without any particular thought.

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3 years ago

Had Neil’s voice been like this over Thanksgiving? Soft, and a little raspy? Or had he started smoking some of those Newports he hides under his nightstand?

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3 years ago

Then, Neil looks up again, right at Andrew for the first time all week. It drills a hole right through him. Neil nods once, shortly, and Andrew holds on for a few seconds too long, keeping Neil in place with the most delicate grip he can manage.

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3 years ago

“Boyd,” Andrew says. “Take my bed tonight.” “Sleepover!” Kevin exclaims. “Awesome.”

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3 years ago

Neil’s hand is in his pants pocket. It pulls the fabric taut across his hips and pelvis, the light color revealing every dip and rise beneath. One of his feet is propped against the red brick wall behind him, so that the tux pants stretch over the muscles in his thigh.

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3 years ago

“That is a very inaccurate representation of the event,” Kevin says. “And anyway, Neil rips things open like a feral squirrel. He goes all Gollum in the corner, hunchy and paranoid. One of us has to have a little class.”

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3 years ago

He looks incredibly good tonight. Better than normal, even. So good it hadn’t seemed odd that an attractive, very tall upperclassman would be hitting on him. Andrew fishes another cigarette out of the pack, slips it between his teeth, and asks, “Get any numbers tonight?”

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3 years ago

On the other side of the table, Neil leans forward and lays his left hand on the table, palm up. Andrew is in a different movie now, some kind of troubled young adult rom-com; he stretches his arm out, too, and settles his hand on top of Neil’s.

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3 years ago

Andrew looks up at Neil and says, “Is this a mood ring?” “Yep,” Neil says. “Does it fit?”

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3 years ago

The dimple appears, exactly where Andrew knew it would. He kisses it quickly, and then kisses the familiar half-smile that always accompanies it.

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3 years ago

Andrew is pretty sure Neil is moving in slow motion, that it’s taking long, long seconds for Neil’s hand to stop moving over his hair, for him to blink those enormous blue eyes, for him to toss the towel onto a chair.

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quicksand bot @quicksandbot

3 years ago

Neil hums, ducks his head, kisses up the side of Andrew’s neck. Andrew desperately wishes he gave at least 90% fewer fucks about this thing between them, just for like half an hour—but he doesn’t.