Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s cold in the studio, too-strong AC that feels deliberate, like they want you uncomfortable before the cameras even start rolling. Neil doesn’t mind. He’s still carrying the weekend in Columbia on his skin, the memory of Andrew pressed against him, the rare weight of peace. He’s in a good mood, which feels suspicious in and of itself.

Let’s see if this PR stunt is going to ruin it.

Apparently, the marketing team thinks rivalries sell better than championships. With the new season looming, they want tension on-screen. And since the Jackals aren’t too far away, the league decided to throw Jeremy and Jean into the mix. Rival teams, cameras, and a damn lie detector test.

As far as Neil’s concerned, the only real threat in the room is the machine itself. He sees Jeremy and Jean often enough. The polygraph, though - that’s another matter. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied on record, not by a long shot, but he’s never done it strapped to wires that track every spike in his heartbeat. He can school his face into blankness, still his hands when they want to fidget. But his pulse? That’s harder.

Carrie, the Rangers’ 5ft2 scary-as-shit PR manager, had assured him there’d be no off-limit questions. It’s light, fun, team-bonding banter. All for promo. Nothing dangerous. No past being dragged up. It’ll be fine, or so he tells himself. Carrie’s earned a strange sort of trust from him; she hasn’t led him wrong before.

Neil isn’t sure what qualifies as “light” when you put four Exy players in a room. Two with matching martyr complexes, one who smiles like sunshine, and one who makes knives look approachable. He sinks into the chair anyway, letting the producer circle around, clipping mics and straightening collars. His mind flicks back to the weekend again, the lingering warmth, and even - stranger still - the fact he’d almost enjoyed his last interview with Kevin.

He’s in a good mood.

For now.

---

The four of them sit on one side of the table, chairs pulled too close together, the studio lights glaring off the polished surface. A tense, dramatic soundtrack swells from hidden speakers. Neil leans back in his chair, trying not to smirk.

A deep, serious voice cuts through the music. “Jeremy, Jean, Kevin, Neil. We’ve brought you here today to take a lie detector test. This is Judd, our polygraph operator.” A tall man with a calm, almost unnerving expression waves from the corner.

“One of you will be hooked up to the machine while the others ask questions,” the voice continues. “Then you’ll switch and then switch again. Who wants to be in the hot seat first?”

They look at each other, measuring. Kevin sits ramrod straight, expression unreadable. Jean crosses his arms, chin tilted just slightly, exuding mild menace. Neil shifts his weight, already planning his angle.

Jeremy, looking at their faces, bursts into laughter. “Okay, fine. Since I’m the least stubborn. Let’s do this, Judd.”

Neil’s lips twitch up.

The camera pans in a slow, dramatic circle as Jeremy stands and heads toward the polygraph, the rest of them watching with varying degrees of curiosity, dread, and amusement. This is going to be… interesting.

Jeremy slides into the hot seat, trying to act casual, but the wires and sensors make him sit impossibly still. The producer adjusts the straps around his chest and wrists, murmuring a few instructions Neil only half-listens to.

The dramatic music fades, replaced by the quiet hum of the studio lights. Neil leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes on Jeremy. Kevin sits jaw tight, calculating. Jean tilts his head, eyebrows up, hands folded neatly.

“Alright,” Judd says, “Jeremy, just answer honestly. Remember, the machine detects physiological responses - heart rate, skin conductivity. Just relax.”

Jeremy snorts. “Relax? You’ve strapped me into a lie detector and plonked me opposite these three. You guys look very menacing right now, you know.”

Neil smirks. “You volunteered. Suck it up, bub.”

Jeremy laughs at Neil. They had a rocky start - not exactly seeing eye to eye - but once they’d realized their shared goal of keeping Jean alive and mostly sane, a strange, friendly bond had formed between them.

Kevin leans forward. “Okay, first question. Is your full name Jeremy Alan Knox?”

Jeremy grumbles. “Unfortunately… yes.”

The three of them glance at Judd, who gives a small, confirming nod.

Neil leans forward, thinking of an easy question. “Who from the Foxes would you trust to hide you in a police chase?”

Jeremy freezes, hand tightening on the armrest. “Uh… Andrew?” He glances at Neil, smirk twitching. “Wait, that’s too easy.”

Neil leans back. “Too easy?”

Judd scribbles notes, barely looking up. The machine beeps softly, Jeremy flinches, and Neil suppresses a laugh.

Next question comes from Kevin. “Favourite teammate for a pick-up game?”

Jeremy hesitates, then answers fast. The room is silent except for the quiet whir of the polygraph. “Laila, obviously.” His eyes flick to Jean, who is staring straight at him, lips tugging as if to smile but too French, too perfectly composed, to actually let it happen.

Jean replies. “Obviously?”

Neil leans forward, chin resting on his hand while Jeremy shrugs. “Every striker needs a goalie.”

Neil chuckles quietly. “Hear, hear!”

Jean leans forward, eyes sharp. “…Do you actually love me?”

Jeremy blinks, caught completely off guard. His mouth opens before he can stop it, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. They’ve been in a relationship for years, living together, playing on the same team, sharing the same friend group - but to the world, it’s only been public for about a year. One accidental handhold outside Trader Joe’s, one winning-game celebratory cheek kiss too many, and suddenly the world knew. Since then, they’ve operated on the principle of private, not secret.

So, Jeremy stares at Jean, momentarily dumbfounded by the bluntness of the question. Finally, his voice low but certain, Jeremy says, “What? You know I do. Of course I do.”

Jean smirks, tilting his head. “Good. So…do you love living with me?”

Jeremy freezes again, jaw dropping, eyes flicking to Judd and the twitch of the polygraph needle. He glances back at Jean, trying to recover. “Erm… I’ve had worse roommates, let’s say that.”

Neil, ever the instigator, leans in with a sly grin. “That’s not an answer.”

Jeremy sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay… fine. I love living with you. But I uh, um, you’re a bit too organised and I can feel your judgment every time I order Postmates.”

“True.” Says Judd.

Jean laughs softly, eyes glinting with amusement. Jeremy looks at him with absolute heart eyes, hand inching across the table moving to read for Jean.

Neil cuts in before he can. “Ah, no fraternizing with the accused, please.”

Jeremy pulls his hand back, lifting it slightly in mock apology, laughter bubbling from him despite himself. Jean hides a quiet smile, tilting his head forward just enough to duck it below his chest, trying not to give away the amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Kevin leans forward. “Alright, next one. You’ve been known to sing at karaoke. Is it true you’ve been banned from …”. Kevin flips his eyes to his paper, fingers tapping lightly against it as he counts the number of his hand. “…from at least four bars for… singing too badly?”

“Nope. Not true,” Jeremy says quickly, shaking his head.

Judd leans in, voice calm but firm. “Lie.”

Jeremy throws his hands up. “Judd! We had a good thing going, baby, what are you doing to me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine, yes. But it wasn’t the singing - it was the dancing.” He stops, shooting Judd a dramatic glare.

“Inconclusive.”

The room erupts with laughter, Jeremy slumping back in mock defeat, shoulders shaking as he tries to catch his breath. “Fine, it was both. Happy now, Judd?” His grin widens into a cheeky smile. “There’s a reason I don’t drink anymore, okay. Don’t drink, kids.” He points directly at the camera for emphasis, delivering a public service announcement.

“Alright, last one,” Neil leans forward, mischief sparking. “Tell the world the truth - are you naturally blonde?”

Jeremy freezes for a beat, then mutters, barely audible, “...no.”

Neil blinks, leaning his head forward to try to read Jeremy’s lips. “What?”

Jeremy ducks lower in his chair, whispering again, his mouth half-hidden behind the collar of his baby-blue polo.

Jean tilts his head, amused. “We didn’t hear you, chѐri.”

Jeremy groans, throwing up a hand in surrender. “Fine, fine! I’m a lie. It’s fake, okay? It’s all fake. The hair, the dream. I’m living a scam.”

Laughter bursts across the table again, Jeremy clutching his chest dramatically as if the hilarity might physically undo him. “That’s it, I’m done. Get this off me, Judd - you traitor! I trusted you.”

Judd only shrugs, perfectly composed, as though none of it fazes him.

With a few practiced motions, the chair is emptied, the cords are unplugged, and the spotlight swings smoothly to the next victim: Kevin, who shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing, bracing himself for the next round.

---

Kevin sits down stiffly, adjusting the strap across his arm like a piece of game-day gear. His back is ramrod straight, chin lifted, eyes fixed on the polygraph as if he can intimidate it into obedience.

“Alright,” Neil says, grin sharp, “first question: Is your full name Kevin Day?”

Kevin barely blinks, voice flat. “Yes.”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow. “Wait… you don’t have a middle name? Just Kevin Day?”

Kevin glances at him, expression unreadable. “Yep. That’s it.”

All eyes shift to Judd. A quiet beat stretches across the room. Then Judd nods. “True.”

Kevin exhales through his nose, a smug little sound, like he’s just scored the match-winning point. Jeremy shoots back with a grin, shaking his head. “Wow, starting strong. Look at you.”

Neil leans back in his chair, tickled at Kevin’s satisfaction, while Jean tilts his head. “Don’t get comfortable. That was the easy one.”

Jeremy flips through the paper in front of him. Then, with a sly grin, he pulls something out from under the table.

“Oh, I’ve got a question.” He holds up an 8 x 10 glossy photo- Kevin, shirtless, sprawled across a Calvin Klein ad, abs carved like marble. The words My Calvins stretch boldly across the top.

Kevin blinks. “…Where did you get that?”

Jeremy beams. “They mailed me one.” He turns it to face Kevin’s side of the table. “So, Kevin - be honest. Was it your choice to be shirtless?”

Kevin’s ears go red instantly. “No.”

Judd glances at the monitor. Lie.

The room explodes. Jeremy practically falls out of his chair, laughing so hard he can barely breathe, waving the picture like a flag - his triumphant trophy. Jean smirks into his hand, trying to stifle his own amusement, while Neil leans back, attempting to choke back a laugh but failing spectacularly.

Kevin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “This is ridiculous.”

Jean leans back slightly, lips twitching. “This is getting fun,” he says, voice deceptively calm, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. Neil smirks from the side, clearly enjoying the contrast between Kevin’s frustration and Jean’s quiet delight.

After a beat, the laughter fades just enough for Jean to lean back slightly, the calm in stark contrast to the chaos moments before. “Alright… do you regret joining the Foxes?”

Kevin’s jaw tightens, eyes flicking between Neil and Jean, weighing his response. “…No.”

Judd: True.

Neil watches him carefully, the faintest trace of pride tugging at the corners of his mouth. He taps his marker against the table, eyes glinting. “Do you actually think the Rangers could beat the Jackals this season?” he asks, voice casual, but sharp enough to set Kevin on edge.

Jeremy leans forward, anticipation written across his face, while Jean tilts his head, a quiet, knowing smile playing on his lips. Kevin shifts in his seat, bracing himself for the answer and the fallout.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Judd glances at the polygraph and nods. True.

Jeremy slaps his hand on the table, grinning ear to ear. “Game on, Day!” he exclaims, pumping a fist, laughter spilling out of him.

Jean, meanwhile, raises a single brow, expression impeccably composed. His look seems to both agree with Jeremy’s excitement and silently scold him for how ridiculously California it was.

Neil leans back, holding the final blow for maximum effect. “Okay… last question. Do you agree that you’re annoying?”

Kevin bristles, posture rigid, eyes narrowing. “What… no.”

Judd taps the machine with a quiet click. Kevin glances up, eyebrows knitting together. Inconclusive.

His jaw drops, eyes flicking to the three on the other side of the table. He shakes his head, then shrugs, surrendering to the verdict.

Jeremy collapses onto the table, laughter spilling uncontrollably, while Jean lets out the faintest, almost imperceptible chuckle, lips twitching with amusement. Neil leans back in his chair, thoroughly satisfied.

Kevin groans. “This machine is broken.”

---

Kevin leans forward, voice sharp, eyes locked on Jean. “Is your name Jean-Yves Moreau?”

Jean blinks once, deadpan, expression composed. “Ouais.”

Judd glances down at the polygraph and nods. True.

The others exchange quick, knowing glances, murmuring soft “of course”s and “obviously”s.

Jeremy leans forward next, grinning mischievously. “Alright, easy one… do you actually like my mac and cheese?”

Jean tilts his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as he says, “No.”

“Not even a little? It’s a classic - a delicacy!” Jeremy protests, nearly howling.

Jean tilts his head again, expression not changing. “I think we have different definitions of delicacy.”

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Alright… snail eater.”

Jean shoots him a sharp look. “You can’t talk either. What is it? Banging mash. Disgusting.” He drags out the last word, his accent emphasizing every syllable, hammering the point home.

Neil bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “It’s bangers and mash, and I’m half English - I refute the food part, at least.”

Kevin leans forward, voice silky, eyes locking on Jean. “Je te manque parfois?”

Jean meets his gaze, calm and composed, replying in the same smooth French, “Quand tu ne poses pas de questions ennuyeuses, oui.”

Jean rolls his eyes after answering, a faint smile tugging at his lips, while Kevin looks slightly bashful, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding direct eye contact. Jeremy can’t help himself - grinning, he leans back in his chair, clearly entertained by the little display between the two of them.

Neil, done watching the soft exchange, taps his marker against the table one more, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alright… last one. You’ve played on teams with all of us - who’s your favourite?”

Jean doesn’t hesitate. “Jeremy.” The accent rolls through the name, the uptilt on the first e and the final flowing off his tongue, leaving no room for doubt.

Kevin immediately leans forward, scandalized. “What? No, it isn’t. Don’t lie.”

Neil grins wickedly, leaning back. “Judd, this is your time to shine,” he says, eyes vibrant, while Judd nods calmly at all the deliberation happening across the table.

Jeremy presses a hand to his heart, beaming. “I’m honoured, baby.”

Neil can’t help himself and bursts out laughing at Kevin’s outrage. Jeremy pats Kevin on the shoulder, grinning even wider. “Can’t help that I’m great.”

Neil tilts his head at Kevin. “Did you really think he was going to pick you?”

Kevin scowls, jaw tight. “I suppose… as long as it’s not you.”

Neil cackles, leaning back slightly and winking at Jean, who just exhales, utterly unbothered. He’s already moving to free his fingers from the polygraph wires. “Okay. Fini?”

Jeremy chuckles, grinning from ear to ear, while Kevin mutters under his breath.

---

Neil thinks nothing can break his mood – the weekend and Andrew on his lips still, not this ridiculous machine. He’s confident the polygraph is getting absolutely nothing out of him.

Kevin exhales through his nose, bracing as though it’s the start of a high-stakes match. “Here we go.”

Jean glances at Judd, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, while Jeremy clasps his hands together, grinning like a kid. “Right then. This should be amusing.”

Jeremy leans forward, voice dripping with mock seriousness.Reading the first question from the paper. “Neil Abram Josten- that is your name, yes?”

Neil doesn’t blink. He shoots a quick look at Kevin and smirks. “Yes.”

All four of them turn in perfect unison toward Judd.

A beat.

“True.”

Jeremy claps his hands together as if the world has just shifted on its axis. “We’re off to a strong start!”

Kevin rolls his eyes, unamused. “Barely.”

Jeremy grins across the table, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Neilio.”

Neil tilts his head, smirk widening, clearly savouring the moment.

He arches a brow, voice casual. “Jeremy.”

Jeremy leans in, conspiratorial, a playful glint in his eye. “Are you a natural redhead?”

Neil laughs, sharp and short. “Unfortunately, yes.”

All four turn in perfect unison toward Judd.

“True.”

Jeremy hums, leaning back slightly. “Mmm. Just checking.”

Neil laughs, sharp and amused. “Did I ruin your fantasy? Surely, I’d have roots by now, or you’d have seen me have to dye it.”

The laughter lingers, filling the small space around the table, and Neil leans back, entertained at the memory he’s just conjured for Jean - one night in the past slathering black dye over Neil’s head, the red stubbornly trying to break free.

Kevin, clearly impatient to steer the conversation back to more pointed territory, narrows his eyes with faux suspicion. “Did you pick the Rangers because I was on the team?”

Neil meets Kevin’s gaze, perfectly neutral, stone-faced. “No. They’re a good team with good stats.”

All four glance toward Judd, the anticipation thick in the air. True.

Jeremy leans back, smirking, while Kevin moans, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. Neil allows himself the tiniest, inward smile.

It’s a lie - Kevin is the real reason. The Rangers may have good stats, but it certainly isn’t because of their questionable goalie. Pain in the ass he may be, Kevin is a damn good player.

Jean clears his throat, voice dry and clipped. “Peacekeeping question. Do you wish you were taller?”

Neil glances at him, incredulous, eyebrows arching. “What kind of question is that?”

The room erupts in laughter. Jean just shrugs, perfectly composed, as if daring Neil to dodge it. “Answer it.”

Neil chuckles, leaning back, thinking about it, fingers tapping the table. “For when I played backliner, yes. But no - not now. I’m faster, more nimble.” Half-truths are his specialty. Sometimes he admits, a few extra inches of height wouldn’t hurt.

Judd taps the machine, expression unreadable. “True.”

Jeremy shakes his head, sun-bright grin spreading across his face. “Unbelievable. The man is bulletproof.”

Kevin grunts, burying his face in his hands, while Jean tilts his head, eyes narrowing as if thoughtfully dissecting Neil’s answer. The two of them exchange a silent look, conspiring silently, Kevin tapping Jeremy’s pile of questions on the desk with a quiet rhythm.

Jeremy starts to grin mischievously in answer to Kevin’s mental suggestion, and pulls a glossy photo from beneath the papers, sliding it deliberately across the table.

Neil raises an eyebrow, calm and unbothered. “Yes?”

Kevin leans forward, suspicion sharp in his gaze, while Jean lets out a soft, amused sigh, eyes narrowing slightly.

Jeremy cackles, leaning in with a grin. “Care to explain this?”

Neil glances at the photo - a player from another team, the one he’d had a fiery Twitter row with months ago. He smirks innocently. “I don’t know who that is.”

The room bursts with laughter. Jeremy slaps the table, Kevin groans and waves a hand at the photo, and Jean shakes his head.

Before Neil can recover, Jeremy slides over another image: a screenshot from a burner account. The edits feature the Foxes, but the comments - clearly not Neil’s - explicitly instruct them to delete any posts that include Aaron. The messages are riddled with mildly offensive language.

Jeremy leans back, eyes gleaming. “Do you know this account?”

Neil keeps his expression neutral, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Never heard of it.”

Judd glances at the polygraph. “True.”

Suddenly, it stops feeling like a lie detector test and starts feeling like a coordinated attack. Kevin, Jeremy, and Jean lean in, eyes sharp, all poised to catch Neil slipping.

Kevin fires first, calm and deliberate. “Do you actually read all our opponent’s stats before a game?”

Neil smirks, voice smooth. “Of course.”

Judd glances at the polygraph, expression neutral. “True.” Lie.

Jeremy can’t hide his excitement, bouncing slightly in his chair. “Do you practice penalties at home?”

Neil tilts his head, casual. “Never.”

Judd: “True.” Another lie. Neil suppresses a grin - dating a goalie has its perks.

Kevin leans back just slightly, voice deceptively calm. “Have you ever stolen my protein bars?”

Neil raises an eyebrow, shrugging with mock innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Judd: “True.” Lie - every half-time, and every visit to Kevin’s kitchen.

The three exchange quick, knowing glances, and then the questions come faster, volleying at him like a coordinated offensive. Neil leans back, smug smile widening, clearly enjoying the challenge, but Judd’s machine doesn’t so much as twitch.

Kevin leans in, sharp. “Do you miss my cooking?”
Neil: “Absolutely.”
Judd: “True.”
Jeremy snorts, shaking his head.

Jean fires off: “Do you still roll your eyes at my tactics?”
Neil: “Never.”
Judd: “True.”
Jean mutters under his breath.

Kevin: “Do you enjoy me hogging the net during drills?”
Neil: “No, it’s good practice for you.”
Judd: “True.”
Jean presses his lips together, hiding a quiet smile at Kevin’s outrage.

Kevin leans in again, eyes sharp. “Do you think you’re better at French than me?”
Neil smirks. “No.”
Judd: “True.”
Kevin throws his hands up; knows it’s a lie. They’ve had multiple arguments about French grammar.

Jeremy grins. “Remember when Neil burned our breakfast to a crisp?”
Neil: “Perfect execution. Eggs should have a bit of crunch. I like them better than way. ”
Judd: “True.”
Kevin shakes his head.

Kevin smirks. “Do you purposely antagonize the press?”
Neil tilts his head. “Never.”
Judd nods, true.

Kevin: “Can you always tell the difference between Andrew and Aaron?”
Neil blinks at the stupid question. “What? Yes. Obviously.”
Judd: “True.”
Jeremy snorts, trying not to laugh, looking over at Kevin. “Do you?”
Kevin shrugs. “They do it on purpose sometimes.”

Jeremy: “Do you secretly like my playlists?”
Neil: “They’re incredible.”
Judd: “True.”
Jean glances at him. No way, Mr-silence-before-matches thrives on back-to-back Madonna?

Kevin, leaning forward, voice sharp. Final jab: “Do you miss living together in one dorm?”
Neil: “Absolutely. Fond memories.”
Judd: “True.”
Kevin raises his whole forehead, not even an eyebrow. Fond memories? Lies, all lies.

Kevin groans, shaking his head. Unbelievable. “As I said, this machine is broken.”

Judd just shrugs.

By the last round, Kevin’s jaw is tight, Jeremy’s laughing hysterically, and Jean looks almost impressed despite himself. Neil just sits there, smug, unflappable in the center of a storm he’s created. It’s relentless. Each question comes faster than the last, and Neil keeps up perfectly, grinning, calm, never faltering. Judd’s machine eats it all, marking him honest every time.

---

The four of them slump on one side of the table, shoulders brushing, heads tilted back in varying states of exhaustion. Jeremy looks spent from laughter, Kevin rubs his temples like he’s aged ten years, Jean sits perfectly upright, though the corners of his eyes betray quiet amusement. And Neil - Neil leans back, arms folded, smirk firmly in place, not a single hair out of place.

The music swells, the voiceover cutting through the room with perfect timing:
“Did you lie at any point during this lie detector test, and we didn’t catch you?”

All three heads snap toward Neil at once.

He meets their stares, unbothered. Chin tilted, shrugging, smirk widening.

“Nope.”

Jeremy collapses, laughter spilling uncontrollably. Kevin throws his hands up, a mix of outrage and disbelief. Jean exhales, the faintest twitch betraying his enjoyment. Neil leans back, untouchable, every bit the picture of smug perfection.

The camera zooms in on Neil as he winks at the lens.

Outro music kicks in, upbeat and playful, rolling over a montage of bloopers: Jeremy failing to keep a straight face, Kevin muttering at the polygraph, Jean answering one of Jeremy’s ridiculous hair questions, and Neil smirking every single time Judd says, “True.”.