“No arguments there,” Andrew says, the hint of a smile on his face. The kind that makes Nicholas want to scream but not in the normal angry way. In the way that is confusing as fuck.
“No arguments?” Nicholas pretends to be shocked. “Who are you and what have you done with my Andrew?”
It’s not until the question is out that he recognizes what exactly he’s said.MyAndrew.Luckily, Andrew doesn’t seem to read into it.
“Your Andrew will return to his regular argumentative state once he’s regulated.”
Your Andrew.
Fuck, does Nicholas like how that sounds.
“And uh, what helps you regulate?” Nicholas asks, so unused to actually giving a shit about someone else that he feels like anidiot. Thankfully, the question seems to be received well since Andrew actually answers.
“Music usually. Stimming sometimes, but I left all my fidgets in my car when some hockey player went caveman on me and shoved me in his car.”
“I was protecting you,” Nicholas gripes.
“Uh huh.”
“What’s stimming anyway?” Nicholas questions, certain he’s heard the word but honestly unsure what the fuck it is.
“Oh. Repetitive movements or sounds that help self-stimulate the brain into relaxing. Sometimes neurotypical people do it, but mostly you see it with autistics or people with ADHD. Which I am.”
“You are what?”
“Autistic. Or I mean I assume. I haven’t been diagnosed formally, but I’ve done enough research, and given the ADHD that runs rampant in my family, it’s not hard to imagine. I could get formally diagnosed, but at this point in my life it never felt necessary. I know who I am and that’s enough for me. And self-diagnosis is fucking valid,” he says in a tone that suggests he expects Nicholas to argue—he isn’t going to. When Andrew realizes that, he continues. “Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to know.”
“Did I say it was?”
“No, but most people would in your position.”
“I’m not most fucking people,” Nicholas snaps. “Keep talking.”
“You want me to keep talking?” Andrew asks, the expression on his face one that will be burned into Nicholas’s memory forever—surprised and almost happy—those pretty brown eyes exactly where they belong, on Nicholas.
“That’s what I fucking said.”
“You’re a grumpy asshole, you know that?” Andrew says, not sounding as bothered as most people are by the fact. “What exactly did you want me to talk about?”
Anything.
Everything.
“How much you liked watching me play last night.”
“Who says I watched you get beat last night?”
“You’d only know I got beat if you watched,” Nicholas points out, annoyed that that’s the game Andrew was watching. Usually Nicholas plays betterandwins fights. He needs to make sure Andrew watches another game, particularly one where he comes out on top. Maybe he can even get him to come to a game. There aren’t many left before the end of the season, and if they play like shit again like they did last night, they’re out of the running for the playoffs—a trail of thought he does not want to go down.
“Fine, maybe I did watch,” Andrew confirms. “I had to keep texting Amanda though because I didn’t always understand what was happening.”
“You don’t need to know what’s happening. Just watch me.”
“Oh my god, grumpy and cocky,” Andrew laughs. “Do you just wake up thinking your shit doesn’t stink, or do you have to work at it?”
“Nothing about me stinks, and you’re welcome to smell me any time to verify.”
“I’m not going to smell you,” Andrew laughs as if Nicholas is kidding. Probably better he thinks he is. “Where are we going anyway?”
