Roomies in Arms - Part 9

Everyone in this story is 18+

-------------Sebastian’s POV------------

The morning had started with promise: early light, fresh tea, and the noble satisfaction of vacuuming dust bunnies into oblivion. I'd taken it upon myself to deep-clean the couch, flipping cushions and Febreezing like my life depended on it. And with the way this flat smelled most mornings, perhaps it did.

Somewhere in the background, soft moans filtered through the hallway. Then rhythmic thuds. Then—was that a headboard? No... the floorboards were creaking now.

I paused, lint roller in one hand, suspicion blooming in the other.

Oh dear.

Was that... Nick?

A particularly breathy sound—followed by something that could only be described as a sex-thud, answered that question.

Yes. It was Nick. And Jax. Engaged in what could only be called enthusiastic recreation.

I blinked. Stared at the couch cushion. Then resumed lint rolling. Thoroughly, igoring the way my pants became weirdly tight-fitting.

By the time the soundtrack of sin reached its inevitable climax, I was spreading Marmite on toast with the calm of a man trying very hard not to imagine his roommates in compromising positions.

I took a bite just as someone knocked at the door.

Knock knock knock.

Three knocks. Firm and civilized.

I shuffled to the door, toast still in hand. Probably one of the ABCD boys, I thought. Coming to ask for coffee, or condoms, or to watch the sex show in Nick and Jax’s room. Although the civilized knock should have been a sign it was not.

The knocking came again. I opened the door.

And there a man stood stood.

Immaculately dressed. Mid-forties, tall, a little too polished for student housing. Collared shirt, smart jacket, polished shoes. Holding a travel coffee and smiling like he didn’t just walk into a den of vice. In fact he looked like an older version of Jax.

His eyes dropped to the Marmite toast in my hand.

“Is that… a sandwich with barbecue tar?”

I blinked. “It’s Marmite.”

He blinked back.

“Right,” I added. “Sorry—where are my manners. Good morning.”

He extended a hand. “Noel. Noel Beckett. Jax and Nick’s father.”

My stomach dropped like a lead tea tray.

I froze.

How am I going to navigate this? The apartment is like bloody Sodom and Gomorrah with buggery echoing from every room—and now their father pops in?

Before I could come up with anything resembling decorum, the hallway door creaked again.

“Finally,” came a familiar drawl behind me. “Nick and Jax are done fucking. They’ve been at it all morning.”

I turned just in time to see Bryson—shirtless, of course, in boxers, hair mussed like a cologne ad gone rogue, stride into view.

Then he noticed the stranger. Paused.

“Oh. Hello. And you are?”

Poor Noel’s jaw dropped. "Nick and Jax, my sons?"

Bryson grinned, looking amused mostly. “Ah. Well. This is awkward.”

And I just prayed for the earth to swallow me whole.

Noel’s eyes narrowed, flicking from my half-eaten toast to Bryson’s boxer-clad self.

I swallowed, tried to assemble something resembling protocol while giving Bryson a death stare. “Bryson, this is Nick and Jax’s Father. “

The I turned back to Noel, “this is my brother—Bryson”

“Half-brother,” Bryson interjected cheerfully, stepping forward and offering his hand like we were hosting a charity brunch. “Bryson. Visiting for the weekend.”

Noel hesitated. Shook his hand.

“I see,” he said slowly. “And the, ah... comment about Nick and Jax?”

Bryson smiled but finally seemed to catch on. “Oh! Slip of the tongue. I meant Nick and Lex. Easy mix-up. It’s all ‘x’ endings these days—Lex, Jax, fax, tax... you know how it is.”

I nodded, a bit too quickly. “Yes. Lex he is Nick’s boyfriend.”

Noel stared. Suspicious. Like he could smell the lies sautéing in the air.

And then—divine timing, Lex appeared.

Hair defying gravity. Hoodie half-on, socks mismatched. He looked like he’d been resurrected mid-systems reboot.

“Hey,” he said, squinting. “Did someone knock? Is it FedEx? Because if my thermal paste’s been—”

He froze when he saw Noel.

I gave him the look.

I looked wide-eyed at Lex. “Lex, this is Noel, Jax and Nick’s Father…”

Bryson clapped him on the back. “There he is. Lex. Nick’s boyfriend.”

Lex’s eyes went briefly wide—then, miraculously, he understood.

“Sir,” he said, voice suddenly polite. American neutral. “Didn’t realize we had company. I’m Lex. Nick’s boyfriend. Sorry we’re meeting like this—I’ll just go wake him so you can be properly introduced.”

And before Noel could say another word, Lex disappeared back into his room.

I turned, offered Noel a weak smile. “Would you care for tea? Or toast?”

He glanced at my plate again.

“Is that nutritional tar still on offer?”

“It’s Marmite,” I said patiently. “Rich in B-vitamins.”

“I see,” Noel replied, tone suggesting he absolutely did not.

His gaze wandered toward the hallway. “So... is that Jax’s room?” He pointed directly at the door where Jax and Nick had just—moments ago—committed several biblical sins.

I stiffened. “Yes. But—”

He was already moving.

“No, please—The Marmite and tea in in the kitchen.” I tried.

He opened the door.

Jax lay on his side, shirtless, blanket haphazardly draped over him. One eye cracked open.

“Dad?” he said, blinking like a cartoon deer. “Wow. You’re here. So nice to see you.”

I opened my mouth to intervene when—Nick stepped out from Lex’s room.

Freshly rumpled, still tugging on a hoodie, like he’d just been dragged from bed.

“Morning,” he said calmly. “I see you’ve met Lex, my boyfriend already.”

He looked directly at Noel, voice serious.

“I guess we should talk Dad, I’m gay as you might have figured.”

Noel blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked back at Jax. Then at me.

Then at Bryson, who had somehow conjured an apple and was now eating it like a Greek chorus.

“I need coffee,” Noel said.

I practically ran to the kitchen to make him a cup, this was going to be awkward…”