Page 43 of Cohesion

It was strange coming home to people in his house. Strange and nice. He could get used to it. Once the panic in his chest settled.

He liked having them there, but he needed space too. His only experience in relationships was Quinn, and while they’d been hot and heavy from the very first moment that they’d laid eyes on each other, he’d always been a person who needed time to himself to feel like himself.

He dumped his laptop bag on his desk and contemplated whether he needed to get it out or not. He had files he needed to work through to give Caleb tomorrow, but he could get them done in the morning. Not that long ago, he would have already had it out and started work on it the second he’d gotten through his door. Here or in the living room; it had only depended on how exhausted he was as to how far into the house he got.

He tapped his fingers on his bag.Fuck it.He left everything where it was. The work could wait; he didn’t want Will to give him a sad face again, and he wanted to spend time with his men. Maybe he could try out that whole work-life balance that Caleb and Monica kept harping on at him about.

No one was in the kitchen, but voices filtered in from the ajar back door. Sebastian slid the glass door open and shut the flywire behind him—this time of year the blowflies were out in full force. He despised flies in his kitchen. It didn’t matter that he rarely used it; it was the principle of the thing. They were dirty and disgusting, and the kitchen was no place for them.

Will, Peyton, and Quinn lounged at the outdoor glass table, with Will and Quinn next to each other on one side and Peyton on the other. It looked like they were playing poker. A bunch of Smarties and two bowls filled with potato chips sat in the middle of the table. And then a stack of them next to Will’s cards. As well as glasses and a bottle of good Scotch that hadn’t come from his stock.

Jericho was nowhere to be seen. Probably checking the perimeter because paranoia was his middle name.

“What’s with the chips?” Sebastian asked. He wrapped arms around Will’s shoulders, resting his hands on his collarbone as he kissed the curve of his neck.

“Will ran out of Smarties after two rounds, so we negotiated, and he’s allowed to use the chips from his snack bowl,” Peyton explained.

“Do you need lessons on how to play poker, William?” Sebastian asked, smiling against his cheek.

“Will they be private lessons?”

“For you?” Sebastian whispered. He kissed up Will’s neck and then turned his head so he could fit their lips together. He tasted of sour cream and chives from the chips and a hint of Scotch. “Anything you want,” he said against Will’s lips. Will was a breath of fresh air and touching him made Sebastian’s insides smile. They’d all snuck in under his ribs and settled there, giving him all the things he hadn’t even noticed he’d been missing.

“I don’t know how much I’ll learn; you’re very distracting.”

“Maybe the lesson can turn into something else,” Sebastian said suggestively. If it involved Will naked, he was there.

“You think I need lessons? Are you trying to say something?”

“Maybe we can try something we both need to learn,” Sebastian said with a wink. A nudge at his calf forced him to crouch down and give Persephone adequate attention and pampering. Will fed her a chip, and she took it back under the table, hiding from them.

“This view,” Will said as Sebastian circled the table. “It’s incredible. How do you not just live out here all the time so you can look at it?”

“It gets cold in winter,” Sebastian replied. He slid in next to Peyton, stole his glass, and took a sip, welcoming the smooth burn.

Peyton leaned over to kiss him. “Hi.”

Sebastian smiled into the kiss before he deepened it, the taste lingering between them. Good alcohol was for sharing, after all. He twined Peyton’s hair around his finger. “How was your day, honey?”

Peyton fluttered his eyelashes. “Better now that you’re here,” he said with fake sweetness.

Sebastian burst out laughing. He kissed Peyton’s cheek and leaned back in his seat, settling comfortably.

Quinn sighed heavily. “I fold.”

“You should just go all in and see what happens,” Will said, nodding sagely.

“You are never allowed to play poker when money is on the line,” Peyton said with an exasperated shake of his head. Strands of hair fell into his forehead, and he brushed them away absently. “You need a keeper when you’re in casinos.”

“I did okay at blackjack that one time.”

“Parker was with you, and he said verbatim, ‘If we ever go to Vegas, he’s being locked in his bedroom.’”

“As long as you feed me,” Will said cheerfully. “But I also want to go to the Pinball Hall of Fame. For reasons.”

“For reasons,” Peyton repeated. “You need a keeper.” He gestured at Will’s cards. “Are you all in, then?”

“How many of my chips is that?”

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