Work Text:
Aaron Minyard—no, not Minyard anymore, just Aaron—had never been more exhausted in his life. Sixteen hours in the OR, two emergency surgeries, and a resident who couldn’t tell a scalpel from a butter knife. All he wanted was a goddamn burger, some peace, and maybe eight hours of unconsciousness before he had to do it all again tomorrow.
He slumped into a booth at a 24-hour diner near the hospital, barely registering the waitress who slid a menu toward him. He ordered the first thing he saw—a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a black coffee strong enough to wake the dead.
He was halfway through his meal, zoning out at the grease-stained table, when a high-pitched voice shattered the silence.
“Oh my God, you’re Andrew Josten! I’m such a huge fan!”
Aaron blinked. Slowly.
A teenager—maybe sixteen, with bright pink hair and an Exy jersey—was standing next to his table, bouncing on her toes, phone already out and aimed at him.
Aaron swallowed his bite of burger. “What?”
The girl giggled. “Oh my God, you’re even cooler in person. Can I get a selfie? My friends are gonna die.”
Aaron stared.
“…No?”
The girl faltered, her smile slipping. “Oh. Uh. Sorry, I just—I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just, like, you’re Andrew Josten.”
Aaron set his burger down. “I’m not.”
The girl blinked. “What?”
“I’m not Andrew Josten.”
She squinted at him. Then burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. You’re, like, totally him. Same face, same voice—wait, are you doing a bit? Is this for, like, a prank video?”
Aaron was too tired for this. “I’m a neurosurgeon. I don’t know who Andrew Josten is.”
The girl’s smile dropped. She looked at him—really looked at him—and then her eyes widened.
“…Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re not him.”
Aaron sighed. “No.”
“But you look exactly like him.”
Aaron had no response to that.
The girl, now vibrating with excitement, whipped out her phone. “Can I—can I take a picture? Just one? Please? This is insane.”
Aaron was too exhausted to argue. He shrugged.
She snapped the photo, gushed a thank you, and scurried off, already typing furiously on her phone.
Aaron went back to his burger.
He had no idea what had just happened.
And he definitely didn’t know that in approximately three hours, his life was about to implode.
---
The post went viral in under an hour.
@ExyFan99: GUYS. GUYS. I JUST MET ANDREW JOSTEN’S SECRET TWIN??????
The photo showed Aaron, mid-bite, looking like a man who had not slept in a decade, his expression caught somewhere between confused and please leave me alone.
The caption:
So I was at this diner and I saw Andrew Josten just sitting there and I freaked out obvi but then he said he WASN’T Andrew??? And like. Look at him. That’s Andrew. But he says he’s a doctor????? WHAT IS HAPPENING.
The replies were chaos.
@FoxFanatic: BRO WHAT.
@JostenLover: That’s 100% Andrew what the hell.
@NickyH: …Andrew doesn’t have a twin???
@KevinDay: What the fuck.
And then, the reply that sent everything into overdrive:
@AndrewJosten: Where is this.
The internet lost its goddamn mind.
---
Andrew Josten (formerly Doe, but Neil had insisted on the name change after the wedding) was pissed.
He stared at the photo on his phone.
The man in it looked exactly like him.
Same sharp jaw. Same blond hair. Same dead-eyed stare.
But Andrew had never seen this man before in his life.
Neil, sprawled on the couch next to him, glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
Andrew shoved the phone in his face.
Neil blinked. “…Did you get cloned?”
Andrew didn’t answer. He was already typing.
Within minutes, he had the diner’s location.
Within an hour, he had a name: Dr. Aaron [REDACTED], Neurosurgeon, Specializes in Sports Medicine & Athlete Injuries.
Andrew’s fingers tightened around his phone.
“We’re going,” he said.
Neil, wisely, didn’t argue.
---
Aaron was so close to passing out.
He had just gotten home, showered, and was halfway through kneading dough for tomorrow’s bread (stress-baking was his only coping mechanism) when someone pounded on his door.
He considered ignoring it.
Then the knocking came again, louder.
Grumbling, Aaron wiped his flour-covered hands on his sweatpants and yanked the door open.
Two men stood there.
One was a redhead with scars and a dangerous glint in his eye.
The other—
Aaron froze.
The other man was him.
Blond. Cold-eyed. Furious.
Andrew Josten stared at him.
Aaron stared back.
“…Huh,” Aaron said.
Andrew’s voice was flat. “You’re my twin.”
Aaron blinked. “Apparently.”
Neil, beside Andrew, looked fascinated. “This is wild.”
Aaron exhaled. He was too tired for this.
“…I’m making bread,” he said. “You can come in. Just—don’t expect me to stay awake long.”
Andrew stepped inside, eyes never leaving Aaron’s face.
Aaron wondered, distantly, if this was how sleep deprivation hallucinations started.
Then he shrugged and went back to kneading dough.
---
Andrew didn’t sit. He stood in the middle of Aaron’s kitchen, arms crossed, watching as Aaron worked the dough with practiced ease.
“You didn’t know,” Andrew said.
It wasn’t a question.
Aaron snorted. “No. Did you?”
Andrew’s silence was answer enough.
Neil, leaning against the counter, tilted his head. “So. You’re a neurosurgeon.”
“Yep.”
“And you don’t play Exy.”
“Nope.”
“And you’ve never heard of Andrew.”
Aaron paused. “…Should I have?”
Neil grinned. Andrew looked like he wanted to stab something.
Aaron didn’t care. He was too busy yawning.
“…I’m gonna crash soon,” he warned. “So if you’re planning on, like, a dramatic twin reunion speech, do it fast.”
Andrew’s glare could have melted steel.
Neil laughed.
Aaron went back to his bread.
This was not how he expected his night to go.
---
Andrew Josten had spent his entire life believing he had no family.
And then, at 2 AM, he found himself standing in the kitchen of a man who looked exactly like him, watching as his supposed twin kneaded bread dough with the same mechanical precision Andrew used to sharpen knives.
Aaron didn’t look up. His movements were slow, deliberate—not from focus, but from exhaustion. His shoulders slumped, his eyes half-lidded, flour dusted across his cheek like he hadn’t even noticed it there.
Andrew had seen corpses with more energy.
Neil, ever the chaos magnet, leaned against the counter, grinning. “So,” he said, “you’re telling me you never played Exy?”
Aaron shrugged. “Never had the interest.”
Neil gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Blasphemy.”
Andrew ignored him. His eyes traced the dark circles under Aaron’s eyes, the way his fingers trembled slightly as he folded the dough.
“When was the last time you slept?” Andrew asked.
Aaron blinked, as if the question confused him. “…Yesterday?”
“Bullshit.”
Aaron sighed. “Fine. Two days ago. But I had a double shift, and then—”
“You’re going to pass out.”
Aaron shrugged again. “Probably.”
Andrew’s fingers twitched. He didn’t like this.
He didn’t like any of this.
---
By morning, the entire Exy world knew.
Kevin Day had texted Andrew no less than eleven times.
Kevin: WHAT THE FUCK.
Kevin: IS THIS REAL.
Kevin: ANDREW.
Kevin: ANSWER ME.
Nicky had called, sobbing.
“I HAVE ANOTHER COUSIN?!”
Renee had simply sent a single, knowing message:
Renee: I’m happy for you.
Andrew wanted to set his phone on fire.
Instead, he watched as Aaron—who had, in fact, passed out mid-conversation last night—stumbled out of his bedroom at noon, looking even worse than before.
Neil, who had taken it upon himself to make coffee (poorly), perked up. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”
Aaron groaned. “I regret everything.”
Andrew wordlessly shoved a mug of black coffee into his hands.
Aaron stared at it. Then at Andrew.
“…Thanks.”
Andrew grunted.
---
Andrew didn’t do caretaking.
Except, apparently, when it came to his idiot twin who didn’t know how to take care of himself.
Aaron’s fridge was empty except for expired yogurt and a single sad lime. His cabinets held nothing but protein bars and instant ramen. His idea of “meal prep” was apparently “starve until I collapse.”
Andrew hated it.
So he did what he always did when he hated something—he fixed it.
Neil watched in amusement as Andrew dragged Aaron to the grocery store, shoved vegetables into the cart, and then, when Aaron tried to protest, growled at him.
Aaron shut up.
Neil cackled.
---
The Foxes, being the nosy bastards they were, demanded a video call.
Aaron, still half-asleep, was unceremoniously shoved in front of Neil’s laptop.
Kevin’s face filled the screen. He stared.
Aaron stared back.
“…Holy shit,” Kevin breathed.
Nicky screamed. “TWINNIE!”
Matt Boyd squinted. “Wait, but—how?!”
Dan whistled. “Damn, Andrew. You’ve been holding out on us.”
Aaron rubbed his temples. “I’m going back to bed.”
Andrew, for the first time in his life, felt something dangerously close to protectiveness toward another human being.
He shut the laptop.
---
It took a week for Andrew to admit it.
Aaron was a part of his group.
His twin. His family. His problem.
And Andrew hated seeing him like this—exhausted, underfed, running himself into the ground.
So he did what he did best—he took control.
He showed up at Aaron’s apartment every other day with groceries. He made sure Aaron ate. He forced him to sleep.
Aaron, for his part, was baffled but too tired to fight it.
Neil watched it all with a smug grin.
“You like him,” Neil teased.
Andrew flipped him off.
But he didn’t deny it.
---
Months later, Aaron sat on Andrew’s couch, eating actual home-cooked food (courtesy of Andrew, because someone had to make sure Aaron didn’t die of malnutrition).
Neil was sprawled across the floor, arguing with Kevin over Exy stats.
Aaron glanced at Andrew.
“…Thanks,” he said quietly.
Andrew didn’t answer.
But he didn’t have to.
For the first time in their lives, they both had something they’d never had before.
Family.