"Hey, Vick." Nathan knocked once on the closed bedroom door before opening it and sticking his head in the room. "There's—oh my god!"

"Jesus, Nate." Victor's head flew up fast from where he'd been sucking on Davis's neck, hair falling in his face as he grabbed for the sheets to cover their naked bodies.

Davis laughed, sweating beneath Vick, hands over his face. He still found it funny—even if it was the third time it'd happened that week.

Nathan stammered out an apology, face glowing red, and nearly cracked his head on the doorframe as he retreated hastily.

"God." Vick shook his head, glaring at the open door.

Davis was still laughing, muscles clenching around Vick's cock resting inside him.

Vick smirked, dragging his fingernails hard down Davis's chest before slamming into him again.

Davis's moan rose a few decibels when Vick readjusted his angle and bit down on his shoulder.

The sound of the front door slamming registered somewhere in the far back of Vick's mind, the part that wasn't focused on getting back to the rhythm he'd established so many times before.

"Shit," Nathan muttered in the hallway, safe from the renewed lovemaking of his roommate. It wasn't the first time he'd embarrassed himself completely in front of Vick.

"Won't be the last, either," he told himself, shaking his head and pushing away from the door, heading towards the elevator. He hadn't even lived with Vick for a month yet, but he was regretting the decision a little. Vick was his brother's friend, not his, and the sexcapades were beginning to get to him.

Nothing like a perpetually ready almost-not-a-teenager in close proximity with two very healthy appetites to keep the atmosphere sexually charged.

The kitchen table, the living room couch, the glass coffee table, the computer chair, Vick's bed, his bed, not to mention pretty much every inch of the balcony railing—Nathan couldn't look at anything in the apartment without cringing at the memory of something he'd interrupted, something that continued as soon as he'd blurted out an apology and fled.

"Ah, crap," Nathan said, realizing he'd left the keys to the apartment on top of the microwave and locked himself out.

Judging by the way Davis had been screaming, they wouldn't notice him missing for a while.

Nathan turned, staring at the numbers on the door as he decided what to do. His options were limited, what with his wallet on his desk and his shoes still neatly lined up in the hall closet.

Running a hand through his too-long hair, Nathan shook his head. It was getting past his ears, and he didn't exactly like the curls that appeared when it got to be that long.

Turning towards the elevator, Nathan was quiet in just his socks on the thin carpet, moving past the stairway door and the dirty window that looked out over the parking lot.

Before Nathan even pushed the button with his foot—always his foot—it dinged and the doors opened.

The guy across the hall stepped out, a dancer or model or something else, giving Nathan an odd look all the way down from his messy hair to his lack of shoes.

Nathan gave him a cheerful smile, the generic one he usually wore, and pretended to be inspecting the caulking job around the elevator door. The door across the hallway opened and closed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that no questions were going to be asked.

Moving back towards his apartment, he slumped down against the wall, across from the door. The other side probably vibrated from Vick and Davis, still enthusiastically screwing.

The door next to him opened and the guy from across the hall looked down at him. "You do realize you can get the landlord to open your apartment for you?"

"What?" Nathan squinted up at him, awkwardly trying to disguise his bright white socks.

"You locked yourself out, right?" The guy nodded towards the apartment door. "Go down and get Bob to open it for you."

"Not that I'm admitting that I locked myself out," Nathan said, setting his hands in his lap, "but maybe I don't want to be in there."

"Yeah?" the guy looked across the hall. "You normally like to sit in hallways on carpet that hasn't been cleaned since the 1970s and stare at your own door?"

"Maybe," Nathan hedged. "Okay, so not really, but I don't want to go in there while Vick and Davis are going at it."

"Your roommate?" The guy frowned at the doorway, tilting his head to the side as he pictured it. "Yeah, can see that."

He moved out of view, and Nathan sighed with some regret. Talking to dancing-stranger was better than sitting alone.

"Well?" The guy reappeared in the doorway. "You coming in or not?"

"Uh, definitely yes." Nathan fumbled his way up from the ground, following the guy into his apartment. "So what's the deal?"

"Deal?" The guy turned to look over his shoulder like the girls in the magazines did. "With what?"

"You all letting me in and stuff," Nathan said. "You let strangers in all the time?"

"No." The guy shrugged. "We're neighbours, anyway."

"Right," Nathan said. "I don't even know your name."

"Robbie," the guy said. "And you're Nathan, the poor sucker who has to listen to his roommate bang his boyfriend."

"Right," Nathan repeated. "Wait, how'd you know who I am?"

"I got your mail in my mailbox for like the first week after you moved in." Robbie shrugged again.

"Oh, okay," Nathan said. "So, can I watch TV?"

Robbie blinked, glancing at the television. "If you want."

"Yeah, I don't get to watch much at home," Nathan said, dropping down onto the leather couch like it was his own.

"How old are you?" Robbie asked in amazement. "Twelve?"

"Nine—twenty." Nathan rounded up for effect.

"Whatever." Robbie rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. "You're making me feel ancient. Stop."

"How old are you?" Nathan asked, picking the remote up off of the glass-topped coffee table.

"Twenty-four," Robbie said, coming back into the room with two bottles of water. "And if you believe that, I'll marry you."

Nathan choked on what he was about to say. "Marry me?"

"Kidding, Nate. Kidding." Robbie tossed the water onto the couch. "God, are you as dumb as you are pretty?"

"Hey," Nathan said, glaring at Robbie. "I'm not just a dumb blond."

Robbie shrugged. "I'm not just a gorgeous brunette, either."

"Right," Nathan looked him over. "So who do you do?"

Robbie nearly spit out the mouthful of water he'd just drunk. "Excuse me?"

Nathan flushed. "What? What do you do? Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, just—god," Robbie shook his head. "If Scott didn't call dibs, I'd be on your lap right now."

"What?" Startled, Nathan dropped his unopened bottle of water.

"Never mind," Robbie said sweetly. "Are you going to stay for supper?"

"Um, I don't know," Nathan tried to forget about Robbie's comment as easily as Robbie himself had. "What is it?"

"Whatever Scott decides to make," Robbie said.

"Who's Scott?" Nathan asked, wondering who this guy was and what he'd called dibs on.

"I thought you wanted to watch TV?" Robbie asked, changing the subject. "I'll go see what he's got planned."

Nathan settled further back into the comfortable couch and picked the remote up again, turning on the television and enjoying watching. Usually it was on some obnoxious program picked because it drowned out Vick and Davis.

Guiltily, Nathan remembered the fact they didn't know where he went. Getting up off the couch, he followed the direction he remembered Robbie taking, stopping at the first closed door.

"Hey, Robbie?" Nathan knocked, waiting for an answer. Opening the door, he found out it was a closet.

Frowning, he moved on to the next, across the hall. He knocked again, getting no answer. Figuring they probably had multiple closets, Nathan opened the door.

"Hey!" Some guy who wasn't Robbie and wasn't wearing any clothes objected, grabbing a sheet to cover himself with, tangling it around his feet so he fell to the carpet pretty much as naked as he had started out.

"Oh my god!" Nathan's cheeks went bright red, even as he stammered out an apology and fled to the living room.

"Hey, Nate, what's wrong?" Robbie asked, coming out of another room further down the hallway, toothbrush dangling from his mouth. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Scott, could you put some goddamn clothes on already?"

Clapping a hand over his mouth, Nathan slid down into a chair in the living room, staring towards the still-open door.

"Hey, you okay?" Robbie put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Listen, I know the sight of Scott naked would be enough to traumatize any soul, but it's nothing to worry about."

"I just—burst right in," Nathan said. "Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't worry about it." Robbie slapped Nathan's shoulder once and then standing up. "I do it about once a week just to keep him on his toes."

"Right." Nathan blinked, finally looking up at Robbie. "Can I call my apartment?"

"Sure." Robbie pointed towards a cordless phone on the television. "Right there."

"Thanks," Nathan said, getting to his feet and picking up the phone.

He dialled his own number, praying that someone picked up and let him in soon. He didn't really want to stay here, making awkward conversation about anything but seeing Scott naked.

It rang four times without an answer, so Nathan left a message informing Vick where he was and asking nicely to get let back into the apartment before he had to go to work the next day.

After hanging up, Nathan realized he probably should have mentioned tonight. As comfortable as the couch was, he didn't really want to spend the night on it.

"So Scott," Robbie said loudly, "you know we have a guest?"

"Yeah," Scott said from down the hallway. "We, uh, we met."

Nathan felt his cheeks going hot again, and he set the phone down on the television again to give himself a chance to calm down.

"So Nate," Robbie said as he glided into the room, and Nathan remembered that he still didn't know what Robbie did. "I'd like you to formally meet my roommate Scott."

Nathan tried for a pleasant smile but it felt too tight on his mouth.

Scott made a choking sound and glared at Robbie, and Nathan felt certain he'd done something wrong.

"You—you bitch!" Scott said, punching Robbie hard in the chest.

Coughing, Robbie bent over to catch his breath.

"I'm Nathan," Nathan said over the gasping sounds Robbie was making. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Scott dismissed it. "He does that all the time."

"Punches himself in the chest?" Nathan frowned, watching him.

"Just likes the attention, the drama queen," Scott said, before looking up and they both remembered who they were talking to.

"Uh, totally sorry about seeing your penis," Nathan stumbled out, realizing with horror what he'd said.

Robbie's pants for breath turned to choking and laughter, collapsing on the carpet even as Scott went red and backed into something glass that broke on the floor.

Wide-eyed, Nathan took a step back from both of them.

"Jesus Christ," Robbie wheezed from the floor. "You guys. Oh, you guys."

"Robbie," Scott said, irritated, stepping over the broken pieces of glass and moving towards the kitchen. "How about you roll over that glass and pick it up with your face?"

Nathan edged away from Robbie and towards the second doorway into the kitchen, bumping right into Scott.

"Sorry," Scott mumbled, pressing Nathan back against the counter. Nathan stopped breathing for a second, long enough for his brain to remind him of Vick and Davis in a similar position three days ago.

"Sorry," Scott said again, moving away to clean up the mess in the living room.

Flushing, Nathan let out a shaky breath, sitting down at the table and running a hand through his hair.

Clearing his throat, Robbie made his way to the fridge and pulled out another bottle of water. "So. You, uh, met Scott?"

"Yeah," Nathan said flatly. "And his penis."

"Good. He likes you," Robbie told him, opening the bottle of water and taking a drink. "Like, a lot. Be nice to him or I'll kill you. I know where you live."

Nathan froze, not sure how to reply.

"Just kidding, dude." Robbie laughed. "About the killing, not the liking."

"Right," Nathan said. "I…yeah."

"Robbie?" Scott's voice sounded strained. "Can you come here a minute?"

"Sure thing," Robbie sang out, dropping his bottle cap to the counter and walking into the living room.

Nathan saw the spray of water hit the living room carpet and heard a body hit the wall. Swallowing, he hoped that Vick would come and get him soon.

Scott returned to the kitchen, brushing his hands off casually and checking on the oven. "So, you wanna—"

The knock at the door interrupted him.

Sighing, Scott went to answer it, Nathan getting to his feet and following closely behind him.

Opening the door, Scott met Vick's half-dressed body on the other side. With another sigh, Scott turned to tell Nathan and smacked his forehead against Nathan's nose.

Nathan dropped like a stone, both Scott and Vick kneeling beside him immediately.

"Oh, he's bleeding," Vick said, wrinkling his nose. "That's disgusting."

"Oh god. I am so, so sorry," Scott said, using the hem of his shirt to wipe away some of the blood running down the side of Nathan's face.

"Scod," Robbie's voice sounded too far away, and Nathan was starting to get worried at how much blood was staining the carpet. "Scod, whad you do?"

"Nothing, it's an accident," Scott said quickly, helping Nathan up. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"He's still bleeding," Vick inserted, taking Nathan's other side. The two of them lifted Nathan into a sitting position, Robbie kneeling to help Nathan tip his head forward.

"Not like that," Scott said, placing a warm hand on Nathan's forehead and tilting his head back. "He won't get so much on his shirt this way."

"Scod, you idiot," Robbie said, snorting and then sounding clearer. His hands were slightly callused on Nathan's face as they moved his head forward again. "He'll choke on his own blood."

"Whatever," Scott said, sounding huffy. Nathan didn't dare chance opening his eyes.

"He's Dutch," Robbie told Nathan, and at that he did squint an eye open to look at him. "Thinks he's right all the time."

"Do not," Scott said grumpily. "You're just usually wrong."

"Shut the hell up," Vick said, surprisingly. Nathan expected it to be Robbie. "You two ladies done bitching, we're going to go home."

"Here, let me help." Robbie's hand was solid underneath Nathan's elbow. "Just keep holding his nose and it should stop in about fifteen minutes."

"I know," Vick said irritably, and nearly shoved Nathan out the door. Stumbling as he went from medium pile to no pile carpet, Nathan caught himself inches from the wall opposite Scott and Robbie's apartment.

He sighed and sprayed blood onto the roughly textured wallpaper. "Oh, shid."

"Great, Nathan. Just great." Vick shook his head, grabbing Nathan's elbow and pulling him inside their apartment. "Now the landlord's going to be pissed."

"What happened?" Davis's concerned face balanced out Vick's contempt. "You okay, Nate?"

"Fine," Nathan said, moving a hand up to wipe his dripping nose.

"Uh, don't do that," Davis said, grabbing his hand. "Vick, you go get him a clean shirt. I'll wash up."

"Thank god," Vick said, shuddering as he headed for Nathan's room.

"Did Vick hit you?" Davis asked softly, guiding Nathan to the bathroom and pushing him to sit on the toilet.

"No. It was Scott," Nathan said. "But it was an accident."

Davis smiled gently, dampening a washcloth. "Usually is."

"I think he likes me," Nathan blurted out. "What do I do?"

"Ask him out," Vick said, throwing the shirt towards Nathan.

"I can't do that," Nathan said, looking more alarmed at that than the blood Davis was wiping from his face. "Seriously, me on a date? With someone who just gave me a nosebleed? Anyone else having visions of the apocalypse?"

"Nathan," Davis said, covering a smile. "I doubt that you dating is going to have the four horsemen running around."

"You never know," Nathan said. "Am I clean yet?"

"You'll do," Davis said, turning the tap on and washing out the cloth. "Put on your shirt and go to bed."

"Yes, Mom," Nathan said, gingerly stripping off his stained grey t-shirt and putting on the clean one. "You gonna read me a story?"

"Get on, you," Davis said, punching Nathan in the shoulder as he passed.

"You're a lucky man, Vick," Nathan said as he passed his roommate.

"I know," Vick said, taking a step forward into the bathroom, eyes intent on his boyfriend.

Davis smiled at Vick, turning the sink off and waiting for him to come closer.

"Oh my god," Nathan said from his room. "If you're going to be making babies again, you could at least shut the door."

Laughing, Davis dropped the laundry into the hamper and caught the door with his foot, slamming it loudly. Vick licked his bottom lip, pressing Davis's shoulders back against the door before stepping closer for a kiss.

"I want a baby brother!" Nathan yelled, breaking the moment.

"Get in the shower, woman," Vick growled. "Let's make the boy a brother."