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Jerichowasgoingtoclimb into this game and shoot every goddamn motherfucker in it. If he heard Peach giggle at him one more time as she lapped him, he was going to lose his shit. “Controller going out the fucking window” kind of lose his shit.
“Who the fuck threw that?” he growled as he hit another banana and spun out of control, smacking into the side barrier.
“You’re supposed to go around them,” Will said helpfully.
Jericho glanced down at where Will’s head was resting in his lap, a warm hand on Jericho’s knee. Will’s legs were curled over Quinn’s, turned sideways so that he could watch them. He’d given up his controller when Sebastian had finished his work and taken over. Sebastian had kept Luigi as his character—Will had picked him because he was tall and lanky like himself.
“Thanks,” Jericho said, unable to take out his anger on Will even in jest. He’d beentryingto go around the banana, but he was positive that the stupid things moved by themselves. “I think that anyone who’s in last place should be immune to the little fuckers.”
“Sore losers should be quiet,” Peyton said. He was playing Yoshi, and Jericho had always thought his little catchphrase was obnoxious as fuck, but now it was even worse. He and Sebastian were tucked into the two-seater together, shoulder to shoulder, both leaning forward, with an intensity in their eyes that was way too extreme for Mario Kart.
Maybe if Jericho wasn’t fucking shit at it, he might have the same competitiveness. As it was, he was still smarting from the Rainbow Road level and just trying to stay on the fucking track, let alone getting anywhere near first place.
Quinn was happy sitting at seventh, bopping along and doing his own thing as Koopa Troopa. He was getting into a weird rivalry with Bowser, who Jericho agreed had it in for him. NPC his ass—someone was in there and having a great time putting a target on Quinn’s back.
Jericho found a blue shell and happily put it into play, enjoying the way Peyton cursed him out. Sebastian said nice things because it allowed him to get ahead. The two of them had been neck and neck for most of the games now, trading first and second between them until one came out the victor.
He didn’t envy them working out their sleeping positions tonight.
It didn’t matter to Jericho, of course. He would be going to sleep alone, like he had been every night. Listening to them move around above him, going about their business before they got into bed. A strange kind of torture he hadn’t been exposed to before.
Will mumbled something unintelligible and shifted on Jericho. Jericho peered down; Will’s eyes had slid closed.
Jericho put his controller on the armchair, well and truly giving up because he’d been lapped by Peyton and Sebastian—and Peach, who was solidly in third place—and there was no way he was going to be anywhere near the podium for the Mushroom Cup.
He threaded his fingers through Will’s hair and kissed his temple. “Tired?” he asked quietly.
“Mmm,” was all Will said, snuggling his cheek against Jericho’s thigh.
Jericho checked his watch. It was closer to midnight than eleven. It was time for them to be going to bed.
“Fuck,” Sebastian cursed, flinging himself against the back of the couch.
“Good try,” Peyton said, looking solemn for a mere heartbeat before bursting into laughter.
Persephone looked up from her bed next to the TV cabinet, extremely put out. She huffed and curled back up to sleep.
“There’ll be no living with you after this.” Sebastian looked at Will and then up at Jericho. “Time for bed?”
“It is getting late,” Quinn agreed.
Will stood slowly and stretched with a loud groan, something in his back cracking. Jericho admired the view, the way the movement lifted his shirt enough to see the muscles in his back flexing and the perfect curve of his ass. He wanted to put his hands on it, run his palms across the smooth flesh. He hadn’t had an opportunity to explore it properly. He wished he could say “yet,” but he doubted that was a possibility.
Peyton vaulted over the back of the couch and did his own stretch, gripping the couch and bending forward. His ass should be illegal.
“I’m hungry,” Will mumbled.
“I’ll get you a snack,” Sebastian said, taking his hand and leading him towards the kitchen.
Peyton and Quinn left in the direction of the stairs, and a moment later, Sebastian and Will came back, a packet of something in Will’s hands.
“Invitation is open,” Sebastian told him as they filed out. He’d said it to Jericho every night. Jericho hadn’t taken him up on it. It would be the final nail in the coffin, and he didn’t know if he was ready for that.
Persephone stayed downstairs with him, and Jericho was getting used to having the shadow.
Jericho waited until the men’s footsteps had reached the top of the stairs, and movement could be heard above him. He painstakingly went through and checked every room on the ground floor. Every window, every door, every small opportunity someone could have to get in while they were vulnerable in sleep.
He didn’t like how vulnerable the house was. Sebastian didn’t even have any of his own security cameras. What kind of place in this day and age didn’t have security cameras? Sebastian wasn’t hurting in the money department; he could afford a more-than-decent setup to better protect himself.
