Chapter Text
Andrew and Neil were quiet as they passed through the city and into the country. Neil was excited to be with Andrew in his home, as opposed to the secret hotels and back alleys.
The first time they rounded a corner and Neil saw Andrew’s house, he blinked twice, then laughed under his breath. The lawn felt like it stretched for a mile up to the "house" Andrew called his, and yet it still looked huge even from far away.
“This is a compound ,” he said. He wasn’t unused to wealth, his uncle had more money than he knew what to do with, but for some reason in Neil’s mind Andrew never acted like it. Sure he drove a nice car and wore tailored suits, but he didn’t ooze wealth the way many crime bosses tried to.
Andrew didn’t look at him. He just parked the Maserati in one of six garage bays, cut the engine, and said, “I said it was isolated.”
“You said it was quiet.” Neil stepped out and took in the sweeping view of hills, the stark black-glass façade of the estate, and the armed gate that had taken a retinal scan on their way in. “This place looks almost Bond villain chic.”
Andrew arched an eyebrow. “I’m offended.”
Neil grinned. “You wish you were that campy.”
They walked inside.
The foyer was marble. A sweeping staircase wrapped around an open gallery above, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed a perfectly unspoiled landscape of nothing. Privacy in every direction.
Neil’s boots didn’t even echo . That’s how thick the money was here.
“Do you live here alone?” Neil asked. From their calls he knew Andrew had some family, but they weren’t connected to his world, and Andrew did a damn good job of making sure it stayed that way.
Andrew shrugged. “Sometimes.” Neil had seen only a few staff members scurrying around, felt like hardly any to keep a house like this in order.
They moved through a series of rooms, each one somehow colder and more elegant than the last. Clean lines. Steel. Matte black. Books Neil knew cost thousands. Art that looked like something you could bleed on and still not ruin.
Andrew didn’t explain anything.
Which, Neil realized, was the explanation.
Because Andrew Minyard didn’t show off. He didn’t have to.
In the den, Neil ran a hand along the arm of the leather sofa. “This couch costs more than my old apartment.” Neil tried living on his own for a while, it didn’t work out when everyone in his life realized he was a terrible interior decorator and never learned how to get groceries. Sue him.
Andrew snorted. “Your uncle buys you a new car every time you get in a fight.”
Andrew tossed him a bottle of water from the mini-bar tucked into a sideboard. Neil caught it, still watching him.
“You brought me here to show me you’re rich like him?” he asked, amused.
Andrew looked at him. “I brought you here because I’m tired and I want to fucking go to sleep after the day I had, and you happened to follow me in like a stray cat.”
Neil twisted the cap off. “And yet you do want me to see it.”
Andrew didn’t reply. Just walked over to a recessed control panel on the wall and tapped a code in.
With a quiet mechanical sigh, a hidden panel behind the bookshelves slid open.
Neil blinked. “Secret room?”
Andrew stepped back to let him see.
Inside laid out another little compound. A private gym. A weapons wall. A glass case with twin pistols custom-fitted. A row of knives inlaid with rare metals. One drawer left deliberately open to show cash, passports, and a folded Moriyama-issue letterhead.
“Jesus,” Neil muttered.
Andrew’s tone didn’t change. “Security. Options. Investments.”
Neil turned. “You mean power.”
Andrew met his gaze. “I mean control.”
They stared at each other a long beat. Neil knew what he was getting himself into, he grew up in it, he was sure with Andrew, but this was a big step.
Then Neil stepped into the room, slow and deliberate. He reached out and ran two fingers across the edge of a case, cool glass, smooth steel.
He wasn’t used to having nice things. Not like this. Not in this way. He was given nice things sure, but never was given the chance to earn things like this.
But this wasn’t just wealth.
This was safety. This was structure . This was Andrew’s way of saying: I built this so no one could touch me. And now I’m showing it to you.
Neil turned back to him. “So. Am I supposed to be impressed?” He smirked.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t care if you are.”
Neil smiled. “Good. Because I am.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, but something in his shoulders loosened.
~
That night, Neil stood at the edge of the upstairs balcony, barefoot on imported stone, watching the hills dissolve into dusk.
Andrew appeared beside him silently.
Neil didn’t turn. “You’re very subtle, you know.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress you.”
Neil tilted his head. “Liar.”
Andrew leaned on the railing. “You’ve seen where I work. What I do. You’ve seen the worst of me.”
“And?”
“I figured you should see what I keep , too.”
Neil looked over. “Keep?”
Andrew met his eyes. “I don’t bring people here, Neil. Not even my family.”
Neil swallowed. “Why me?”
“Because you already know what it costs to survive.” Andrew said simply.
~~~
Neil kept eyeing the secret room Andrew had showed him. It started with a comment.
Neil had been walking around barefoot again, shirtless, sweat still drying on his collarbone from a midnight sparring match that Andrew swore wasn’t a date, even though he’d specifically cleared the gym and dimmed the lights.
They ended up near the vault entrance again, floor warm from under-heating, the room humming quiet with power.
Neil stretched. “So. We’re really not gonna christen the vault?”
Andrew didn’t look up from where he was reassembling a pistol, and adding in a few modifications for an upcoming job. “It’s not a church.”
“Could’ve fooled me. All that specialty lighting, things on pedestals.”
Andrew cocked his head. “You’re not touching the weapons while we’re doing it.”
Neil blinked, then grinned slow. “You think I was going to touch the weapons?” His eyes widened innocently.
Andrew set the pistol down. “I think you are the weapon.”
Neil walked toward him. Barefoot. Loose-hipped. Unarmed, but only visibly. “Then use me.”
They didn’t even make it to the padded weight bench in the corner.
Andrew had Neil pressed against the armory wall in seconds, one hand braced beside his head, the other tracing down his side like a familiar threat.
The knives behind glass gleamed in the low light.
"You’re playing a game," Andrew said, voice low.
Neil smirked. “Got a competitive streak?”
Andrew leaned in until his mouth ghosted Neil’s ear and he nipped at the shell. “Then remember, I never play to lose.”
Neil rolled his hips and growled. “Then fuck me like it’s a fight.”
Andrew did.
~~
Later, Neil lay on the padded bench, breathing shallow, Andrew still half on top of him, shirt somewhere across the room.
“You’re insane,” Neil whispered.
“You started it,” Andrew said, nipping his shoulder.
“You finished it,” Neil muttered to himself. “Possibly broke something. Not me, just… furniture. Maybe the floor.”
Andrew looked over at the small glass case cracked slightly at the corner. One of the knife mounts had dislodged.
He hummed. “Worth it.”
Neil reached up, carded fingers through his hair, lazy and smug. “You know this is your fault.”
“What is.”
“You made me fall for a man with a vault . What else was I supposed to do?”
Andrew’s mouth twitched. “Not fuck on the floor?”
“Next time,” Neil said. “We use the desk.”
Andrew looked over at it.
Then back at Neil.
Then rolled over, undid his belt again, and headed over to the desk, throwing a glance behind his shoulder as he went.