Fanfiction: The Person You've Become (The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, Andrew/Ashley)
More Andy and Leyley fanfiction! Already! Somehow!
This started out as an attempt to understand Andrew's character better and ended up, uh, just being a whole bunch of incest, which I suppose is the risk you take when you attempt to explore the character of Andrew Graves.
Title: The Person You've Become
Fandom: The Coffin of Andy and Leyley
Rating: 15
Pairing: Andrew/Ashley
Wordcount: 1,800
Summary: Ashley just smirks up at him, as if she’s won. And she has, of course. She’s won again; she always wins. Andrew has no idea why he even bothers to keep playing.
Warnings: Sibling incest, mentions of cannibalism.
Thank fuck for seedy motels. Andrew drops onto the side of the bed as soon as they’re inside the room, leans down to untie his shoes. Takes a moment to revel in this moment of not having to go anywhere or do anything. It’s been a long, exhausting day of putting as much distance as possible between themselves and any trace of their parents.
Only one bed. Not optimal. But it’s the room they had.
Well, yeah, they end up in the same bed anyway half the time. But it feels important for them to at least have the option of sleeping apart, somehow. They’re not siblings who sleep in the same bed; they just share sometimes. It feels like an important distinction.
He’s not going to think about that fucked-up vision.
“Sucks that we couldn’t stay at our parents’ place,” Ashley says, with a sigh.
Andrew makes a vague noise, half agreement. He shifts absently to give Ashley more space when she sits down next to him.
“You were a lot calmer than I expected,” Ashley says, after a moment. “About our parents.”
Huh. It’s crossed Andrew’s mind, that he’s coping better than he thought he might. He hadn’t realised Ashley had been thinking about it as well.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says. “Did you want me to freak out?”
Ashley combs her fingers absently through her hair for a moment. She’s been fidgeting with it a lot; it’s almost worked itself completely free of its hair tie.
“I don’t know,” she says at last. “It’s my job to talk you out of being a pissy little bitch, y’know? You’re kind of making me feel redundant.”
Andrew laughs. “Well, if you want me to be a pissy little bitch, I’m sure I’ve still got the talent somewhere.” He reaches over to pull the tie out of her hair, kneels behind her on the bed. “Say the word, and I’ll bitch as much as you like.”
She’s silent as he reties her ponytail.
“I think I broke you,” she says, suddenly. “I think I snapped something inside you in half and maybe you’re not my brother any more.”
She sounds genuinely upset, upset enough to startle him. He drops a kiss on the top of her head, almost on reflex, before he’s really had time to take in what she’s saying.
“I mean,” he says.
What does he say, here?
“I mean, yeah, maybe you broke me,” he says. “But I think it happened a long time ago.”
She turns to face him, pulling her knees up onto the bed. He’s mortified to see a hint of tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Maybe you didn’t break me,” he says, hastily. “It might be more that you... reshaped me? We reshaped each other, I guess. It’s what siblings do, right?”
She nods a little at that. It feels like he might be on the right track.
“How do you feel about the person I reshaped you into?” she asks, after a moment.
Not an easy question.
He ate his parents. They didn’t even taste good. Probably not something he would have done without Ashley’s influence. How does he feel about that?
But he ate them to make Ashley happy. There’s something positive in that, right? Maybe not the action of a good person, but the action of a person who still has something good in him, maybe, somewhere. He loves his sister. That’s generally considered a positive thing.
“I think the important thing is how you feel about me,” he says. “If you’re happy with me, I’m happy. Or... I’m okay with it, I guess.”
“Andrew.” Ashley leans forward, puts a hand on his cheek. “You are the only worthwhile thing in this fucking world.”
They’re-
They’re on a bed, they’re so close to each other, and Andrew is suddenly and intensely conscious of the fact that, according to a demonic vision, the two of them are fated to fuck. He should move away; he should move away now.
He doesn’t move. He wants to comfort Ashley, so he should stay close to her, right? It’s fine.
When she kisses him, his stomach does approximately twenty flips, more violently than it did when he choked down his first slice of cooked cultist. But he kisses back. This is what she needs, so this is what he’ll do, just like any other time.
His feelings aren’t relevant here. What feelings? Ashley’s the one initiating this, it’s not like he-
She makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat. Andrew lets out a shuddering breath against her mouth, moves his hand to her hip.
It’s not like he wants-
Okay.
After Nina died, Ashley was the only thing he ever thought about. Every moment of the day. Every moment of the night; it wasn’t like he was sleeping.
He thought about Nina as well, of course. But he thought about Nina in terms of Ashley. Nina wasn’t just someone he’d killed; Nina was someone Ashley made him kill.
Ashley had already redefined him once: when she was born, he became a brother. Now she’d done it again: he was a killer.
This thing was going to hang over him for the rest of his life. He’d have to live with the knowledge that one day it could be exposed, that Ashley could drop the bomb at any moment and destroy them both. His mom looked at him differently; he looked at himself differently. It all came back to Ashley.
When someone takes up your mind that completely, yeah, maybe your feelings about them get a little fucked up.
That’s his excuse, anyway.
That’s not a fucking excuse. Jesus Christ, his sister’s tongue is in his mouth, he has his hand halfway up her top-
He almost flings himself off the bed and across the room. Away from her.
It’s not far enough. He glances at the door. He could leave.
But, if he leaves, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have the courage to come back. And he can’t just leave her here.
“Andrew?” Ashley asks, standing up.
She’s moving towards him. He raises a hand as if to ward her off, bracing himself with one shoulder against the wall. She comes to a halt, too close, too close, too fucking close.
Fuck. Is this the place? Are those the bedclothes from their vision? He wasn’t really paying attention to them in the moment; all he can remember is Ashley.
“We’re not-” It’s hard to think clearly; it’s hard to talk. “We’re not like that. We don’t have to let some stupid demonic vision control us.”
Ashley throws her head back and crows with laughter. “Andy! Do you seriously think you can kiss your sister with tongue, and you can just keep pretending everything’s fine and normal so long as you don’t take her adorable little shorts off?”
Wow. Apparently he’s succeeded in cheering her up, at least, even if he’s also succeeded in absolutely fucking up both of their lives.
“Don’t call me Andy,” he growls, straightening up.
“Pretty sure we’re still letting the vision control us if we’re deliberately not doing something just because it’s what we saw,” she says. “Aaaaaaaandy.”
Andrew grabs her shoulders and slams her against the wall.
She just smirks up at him, as if she’s won. And she has, of course. She’s won again; she always wins. Andrew has no idea why he even bothers to keep playing.
He kisses her again.
She laughs, breathless, as he breaks away. Tilts her head back, exposing her throat.
He wants to fuck her until he can’t remember doing anything else. He wants to swallow her whole.
He just fucking stands there. Too close, too far gone, absolutely out-of-his-mind turned on. But apparently some part of him still thinks he can pretend this isn’t happening.
“You know,” Ashley says, rolling her shoulders against the wall, “if you don’t want that vision to come true, I could just not suck you off. Destiny averted, and you still get to fuck me.”
Focus. Focus, goddammit, he needs to focus.
“I don’t have condoms,” he says. Because of course he doesn’t have condoms. Because why the fuck would he think he’d need condoms while on the run with his sister?
Ashley rolls her eyes. “God, who cares?”
“I care!” Andrew snaps. “Ashley, do you have any conception of how screwed we will be if I knock you up?”
“More screwed than I’m getting right now, apparently,” Ashley mutters. “People try for kids for years; what are the odds we’ll get one in one fuck?”
It won’t be just one fuck. If he gets inside her, he knows he’s never going to leave.
“We can’t do this.” It nearly kills him to say it. But it’s a relief, too; it’s the sensible decision, it’s for the best-
“Oh, by the way,” Ashley says. She pulls a packet out of her shorts pocket, waggles it in his face. “I have condoms.”
Andrew stares at her for a moment.
“Why the fuck did you bring condoms?” He’s already unbuttoning his jeans as he says it, humiliatingly frantic. “You thought you’d be sleeping around on the Andrew and Ashley Murder and Cannibalism Tour?”
“I bought them after we had that vision,” she says, tearing the wrapper open. “Thought you’d be proud of me for thinking ahead for once.”
Fuck. She bought them for him.
When he finally buries himself inside her, panting into her shoulder, it feels like the first time he’s really breathed since the moment he saw Nina’s body.
-
“Well,” Ashley says, “good news: I managed to keep your dick out of my mouth, so the vision totally didn’t come true.”
Andrew rolls onto his front and shoves his face into the pillow. “God.”
“Plus that vision definitely looked like our first time,” Ashley says, thoughtfully, “so, hey, blowjobs are still on the table if we ever do this again.”
Andrew is going to die if they never do this again.
“I mean,” he says, “might as fucking well, I guess. Apparently it’s too late to start making good decisions.”
Ashley giggles. He sits up in order to give her an unimpressed look.
“I’m just glad you’re being a pissy little bitch again,” Ashley says. “I guess I didn’t fuck up our relationship as badly as I thought.”
Andrew has to laugh at that; he can’t help it. “Yep. Our relationship is totally unfucked.”
He leans over to kiss her.
He can just... do that, now? That’s an option?
He still feels like he’s losing his mind; he’s felt like he’s losing his mind for a long time. Every moment of their lives has been one long crash and burn. This was definitely a mistake.
Maybe not the worst mistake they’ve made lately, though. He can hold on to that, at least.
This started out as an attempt to understand Andrew's character better and ended up, uh, just being a whole bunch of incest, which I suppose is the risk you take when you attempt to explore the character of Andrew Graves.
Title: The Person You've Become
Fandom: The Coffin of Andy and Leyley
Rating: 15
Pairing: Andrew/Ashley
Wordcount: 1,800
Summary: Ashley just smirks up at him, as if she’s won. And she has, of course. She’s won again; she always wins. Andrew has no idea why he even bothers to keep playing.
Warnings: Sibling incest, mentions of cannibalism.
Thank fuck for seedy motels. Andrew drops onto the side of the bed as soon as they’re inside the room, leans down to untie his shoes. Takes a moment to revel in this moment of not having to go anywhere or do anything. It’s been a long, exhausting day of putting as much distance as possible between themselves and any trace of their parents.
Only one bed. Not optimal. But it’s the room they had.
Well, yeah, they end up in the same bed anyway half the time. But it feels important for them to at least have the option of sleeping apart, somehow. They’re not siblings who sleep in the same bed; they just share sometimes. It feels like an important distinction.
He’s not going to think about that fucked-up vision.
“Sucks that we couldn’t stay at our parents’ place,” Ashley says, with a sigh.
Andrew makes a vague noise, half agreement. He shifts absently to give Ashley more space when she sits down next to him.
“You were a lot calmer than I expected,” Ashley says, after a moment. “About our parents.”
Huh. It’s crossed Andrew’s mind, that he’s coping better than he thought he might. He hadn’t realised Ashley had been thinking about it as well.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says. “Did you want me to freak out?”
Ashley combs her fingers absently through her hair for a moment. She’s been fidgeting with it a lot; it’s almost worked itself completely free of its hair tie.
“I don’t know,” she says at last. “It’s my job to talk you out of being a pissy little bitch, y’know? You’re kind of making me feel redundant.”
Andrew laughs. “Well, if you want me to be a pissy little bitch, I’m sure I’ve still got the talent somewhere.” He reaches over to pull the tie out of her hair, kneels behind her on the bed. “Say the word, and I’ll bitch as much as you like.”
She’s silent as he reties her ponytail.
“I think I broke you,” she says, suddenly. “I think I snapped something inside you in half and maybe you’re not my brother any more.”
She sounds genuinely upset, upset enough to startle him. He drops a kiss on the top of her head, almost on reflex, before he’s really had time to take in what she’s saying.
“I mean,” he says.
What does he say, here?
“I mean, yeah, maybe you broke me,” he says. “But I think it happened a long time ago.”
She turns to face him, pulling her knees up onto the bed. He’s mortified to see a hint of tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Maybe you didn’t break me,” he says, hastily. “It might be more that you... reshaped me? We reshaped each other, I guess. It’s what siblings do, right?”
She nods a little at that. It feels like he might be on the right track.
“How do you feel about the person I reshaped you into?” she asks, after a moment.
Not an easy question.
He ate his parents. They didn’t even taste good. Probably not something he would have done without Ashley’s influence. How does he feel about that?
But he ate them to make Ashley happy. There’s something positive in that, right? Maybe not the action of a good person, but the action of a person who still has something good in him, maybe, somewhere. He loves his sister. That’s generally considered a positive thing.
“I think the important thing is how you feel about me,” he says. “If you’re happy with me, I’m happy. Or... I’m okay with it, I guess.”
“Andrew.” Ashley leans forward, puts a hand on his cheek. “You are the only worthwhile thing in this fucking world.”
They’re-
They’re on a bed, they’re so close to each other, and Andrew is suddenly and intensely conscious of the fact that, according to a demonic vision, the two of them are fated to fuck. He should move away; he should move away now.
He doesn’t move. He wants to comfort Ashley, so he should stay close to her, right? It’s fine.
When she kisses him, his stomach does approximately twenty flips, more violently than it did when he choked down his first slice of cooked cultist. But he kisses back. This is what she needs, so this is what he’ll do, just like any other time.
His feelings aren’t relevant here. What feelings? Ashley’s the one initiating this, it’s not like he-
She makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat. Andrew lets out a shuddering breath against her mouth, moves his hand to her hip.
It’s not like he wants-
Okay.
After Nina died, Ashley was the only thing he ever thought about. Every moment of the day. Every moment of the night; it wasn’t like he was sleeping.
He thought about Nina as well, of course. But he thought about Nina in terms of Ashley. Nina wasn’t just someone he’d killed; Nina was someone Ashley made him kill.
Ashley had already redefined him once: when she was born, he became a brother. Now she’d done it again: he was a killer.
This thing was going to hang over him for the rest of his life. He’d have to live with the knowledge that one day it could be exposed, that Ashley could drop the bomb at any moment and destroy them both. His mom looked at him differently; he looked at himself differently. It all came back to Ashley.
When someone takes up your mind that completely, yeah, maybe your feelings about them get a little fucked up.
That’s his excuse, anyway.
That’s not a fucking excuse. Jesus Christ, his sister’s tongue is in his mouth, he has his hand halfway up her top-
He almost flings himself off the bed and across the room. Away from her.
It’s not far enough. He glances at the door. He could leave.
But, if he leaves, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have the courage to come back. And he can’t just leave her here.
“Andrew?” Ashley asks, standing up.
She’s moving towards him. He raises a hand as if to ward her off, bracing himself with one shoulder against the wall. She comes to a halt, too close, too close, too fucking close.
Fuck. Is this the place? Are those the bedclothes from their vision? He wasn’t really paying attention to them in the moment; all he can remember is Ashley.
“We’re not-” It’s hard to think clearly; it’s hard to talk. “We’re not like that. We don’t have to let some stupid demonic vision control us.”
Ashley throws her head back and crows with laughter. “Andy! Do you seriously think you can kiss your sister with tongue, and you can just keep pretending everything’s fine and normal so long as you don’t take her adorable little shorts off?”
Wow. Apparently he’s succeeded in cheering her up, at least, even if he’s also succeeded in absolutely fucking up both of their lives.
“Don’t call me Andy,” he growls, straightening up.
“Pretty sure we’re still letting the vision control us if we’re deliberately not doing something just because it’s what we saw,” she says. “Aaaaaaaandy.”
Andrew grabs her shoulders and slams her against the wall.
She just smirks up at him, as if she’s won. And she has, of course. She’s won again; she always wins. Andrew has no idea why he even bothers to keep playing.
He kisses her again.
She laughs, breathless, as he breaks away. Tilts her head back, exposing her throat.
He wants to fuck her until he can’t remember doing anything else. He wants to swallow her whole.
He just fucking stands there. Too close, too far gone, absolutely out-of-his-mind turned on. But apparently some part of him still thinks he can pretend this isn’t happening.
“You know,” Ashley says, rolling her shoulders against the wall, “if you don’t want that vision to come true, I could just not suck you off. Destiny averted, and you still get to fuck me.”
Focus. Focus, goddammit, he needs to focus.
“I don’t have condoms,” he says. Because of course he doesn’t have condoms. Because why the fuck would he think he’d need condoms while on the run with his sister?
Ashley rolls her eyes. “God, who cares?”
“I care!” Andrew snaps. “Ashley, do you have any conception of how screwed we will be if I knock you up?”
“More screwed than I’m getting right now, apparently,” Ashley mutters. “People try for kids for years; what are the odds we’ll get one in one fuck?”
It won’t be just one fuck. If he gets inside her, he knows he’s never going to leave.
“We can’t do this.” It nearly kills him to say it. But it’s a relief, too; it’s the sensible decision, it’s for the best-
“Oh, by the way,” Ashley says. She pulls a packet out of her shorts pocket, waggles it in his face. “I have condoms.”
Andrew stares at her for a moment.
“Why the fuck did you bring condoms?” He’s already unbuttoning his jeans as he says it, humiliatingly frantic. “You thought you’d be sleeping around on the Andrew and Ashley Murder and Cannibalism Tour?”
“I bought them after we had that vision,” she says, tearing the wrapper open. “Thought you’d be proud of me for thinking ahead for once.”
Fuck. She bought them for him.
When he finally buries himself inside her, panting into her shoulder, it feels like the first time he’s really breathed since the moment he saw Nina’s body.
-
“Well,” Ashley says, “good news: I managed to keep your dick out of my mouth, so the vision totally didn’t come true.”
Andrew rolls onto his front and shoves his face into the pillow. “God.”
“Plus that vision definitely looked like our first time,” Ashley says, thoughtfully, “so, hey, blowjobs are still on the table if we ever do this again.”
Andrew is going to die if they never do this again.
“I mean,” he says, “might as fucking well, I guess. Apparently it’s too late to start making good decisions.”
Ashley giggles. He sits up in order to give her an unimpressed look.
“I’m just glad you’re being a pissy little bitch again,” Ashley says. “I guess I didn’t fuck up our relationship as badly as I thought.”
Andrew has to laugh at that; he can’t help it. “Yep. Our relationship is totally unfucked.”
He leans over to kiss her.
He can just... do that, now? That’s an option?
He still feels like he’s losing his mind; he’s felt like he’s losing his mind for a long time. Every moment of their lives has been one long crash and burn. This was definitely a mistake.
Maybe not the worst mistake they’ve made lately, though. He can hold on to that, at least.