Epilogue

EPILOGUE

NASH

There wasn't a lot of space for the three of them in Taylor's shoebox of an apartment, which was why when the three of them were together, they tended to gather at Nash and Damon's place. But Nash had to admit that there was a certain appeal about the small space. Mostly he liked that Taylor was practically always within arm's reach.

It was a charming place, even if it was on the small side. A tiny kitchen and an only marginally larger living area made up the entire thing, except for the bathroom, of course.

"I'm not sure how you haven't gone crazy here by now." Nash was stretched out on Taylor's bed, waiting for him to finish getting ready. They were going on a date, something they did a lot of. Something he and Damon hadn't really done much of. They were happy to hang out at home for the most part. Every once in a while, they'd go somewhere that wasn't Ethan Bennett's back yard, but they'd never needed that sort of thing from each other.

Taylor, on the other hand, thrived under the attention of his boyfriends. Nash and Damon took turns taking him out to dinner and to the movies. It was nearly Christmas now and the cold had kept them inside a lot, but tonight there was a holiday night market that Nash knew Taylor loved. It was all he'd talked about for the past week. Nash was just happy that the cold front had finally moved on.

A crashing sound came from the bathroom and Nash sat up. Before he could ask, Taylor's frustrated voice rang out.

"I'm fine." Taylor sounded annoyed and agitated, and anything but fine.

"Have you ever thought of renting a bigger place for yourself?" Nash relaxed back down on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head.

"I like my little apartment. Most of the time." A few quiet curse words reached Nash's ears, but he chose not to comment on them.

Taylor appeared a second later looking ravishing. He was wearing the asymmetrical earrings Damon had given him a few weeks ago. The smaller earring was a stud in the shape of a crescent moon and the dangling one was a grouping of stars. Nash had thought it a bit cheesy if he was being honest, but clearly cheese was the way to Taylor's heart because he'd gushed about them nonstop for a week.

Nash untucked his hands and pushed himself off the bed. Taking Taylor in his arms, he brushed a kiss against his mouth. Taylor wriggled in his grasp as though he were trying to get away.

"We're going to be late," Taylor tried to complain, but he didn't sound overly concerned.

"We have all night," Nash reminded him, not that it worked in his favor.

"Exactly. We have all night, so tell little Nash to calm down."

"Little Nash?" Nash frowned. Since when did his dick have a name and why was it little Nash? It was all he could do to stop himself from looking down the front of his pants to get a glimpse and reassure himself.

Taylor beamed up at him and rose on his toes to kiss Nash's cheek. "It's so easy to fuck with you. I'm sorry."

Taylor's laugh was like music to Nash's ears. When Taylor was happy, Nash was happy. There was something about Taylor's joy that made the world a brighter place.

"If we're going to name my dick, I demand at least a little creativity." Nash grabbed Taylor's jacket off the hook and held it for him. It was a black pea coat with a bright pink lining that Taylor had fallen in love with. According to him, he'd spent an obscene amount of money on it, but given that he lived in a shoebox with a window, he didn't pay a lot for rent, even now that he wasn't living at home.

"Nash Junior." Taylor mocked him openly now, his eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Your definition of creative leaves a lot to be desired," Nash said dryly as he slid into his own coat.

"I'm just getting warmed up. Give me a break." Taylor buttoned his coat and grabbed his keys and his gloves, and then they were out the door.

Taylor lived nearly in the center of town now. His apartment was above a real estate office and only a block away from where the night market was set up. His stairs were steep and treacherous, but thankfully they were indoors at least. A second door led them to the street and it locked automatically behind them. Nash hadn't enjoyed move-in day, but Taylor seemed to still be deeply in love with his tiny apartment.

They linked hands and made their way to where half the town seemed to already be gathered. Vendors lined the streets in brightly lit tents. Artisans and craftsmen from all over the place came here for the night market every year. People sold everything from crocheted dishcloths to copper jewelry.

Their first stop was the booth selling an assortment of hot drinks. Nash and Taylor both chose a hot chocolate with extra whip, avoiding the hot apple cider like the plague it was. Taylor sipped at his drink, licking a bit of the whipped topping off his lip.

"You could set up a booth here," he told Nash.

"What for?" Nash replied.

"Your books. You're a local legend, you know. People would love to see you here with your books all stacked up like trophies."

"Trophies?" Nash furrowed his brow.

"Yeah, like trophies. Each book is sort of a little victory in itself, you know. So the finished ones are like trophies, I think. What do you get when you win something? A trophy."

"You can't win at writing. It's not a competition."

Taylor shrugged, unaffected by Nash's logical argument. "Tell that to all the people who win the Pulitzer or the Nobel Prize for literature."

Nash nearly choked on his drink. "My books are hardly close to that caliber."

"That's not even my point. My point was that people love seeing you at the diner. They get a kick out of knowing you sit there and write your books."

"And how do you know this?" Nash had trouble wrapping his head around the idea that people knew who he was and cared about where he worked.

"It's a diner, Nash. It's gossip central. People think it's adorable that you sit at the family table in the corner and work while I make their pancakes and shit. It's romantic as hell and they know it."

Nash had never thought of it that way before. It was an odd thing for people to be interested in, but people were people and they tended to put importance on the strangest things.

"A booth," Nash said after a time. "You think people would like it?"

"Oh, definitely."

"I'll think about it." Nash knew that if the idea was still in Taylor's head next year, Nash would be setting up a booth at the night market just because it would make him happy.

Something else that would make Taylor happy was Damon, and Nash felt his presence before he saw him. Damon strode up and slipped an arm around Taylor's waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Nash and Damon had never taken Taylor out at the same time to anything that wasn't a dinner. It wasn't that they didn't want to be seen together as a unit; it was just that they all respected their time with each other and didn't want to intrude on that. But Nash and Damon had hatched this plan weeks ago as soon as it was apparent how excited Taylor was about the night market.

"What are you doing here?" Taylor looked at Damon, his confusion obvious.

"I'm crashing your date," Damon said before kissing Taylor again. "Don't worry, Nash and I talked about this awhile back."

Taylor looked at Nash. "You did?"

"We know we generally do things a little different, but the night market seemed special to you, and we both wanted to share in that." Nash tugged Taylor closer, pulling him away from Damon. Damon scowled and pretended to pull Taylor back to him.

Taylor's laughter pealed out and he pulled away from both of them. "I'm not a toy." Taylor shook his head.

Damon stepped into his space and met Nash's gaze as he slid his arm around Taylor's waist. He leaned in close to Taylor and whispered in his ear. "But we love playing with you."

Taylor's already pink cheeks darkened into a lovely candy apple red. "Stop that," he said as he pulled away, not going too far. "You two need to behave."

Taylor tossed his empty hot chocolate in the trash and returned. He snuggled into Nash's side and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You'll have to share me. I'll finish the walk down with you, and I'll walk back with Damon, and then we can go somewhere and warm up." Taylor's eyes narrowed on Damon, who was staring at something.

"Is that Mickey?" he asked.

"I think so." Taylor replied, sounding sad. He'd tried hard to befriend Mickey, but the man refused help at every corner. Even though the basement unit was empty and Nash knew Taylor had told him he could stay there as long as he wanted, Mickey had disappeared into the wind again.

"Where did he go?" Taylor scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of him.

Nash felt the light go out of Taylor and he tugged him close, kissing his icy cheek. "We can look for him if you want."

Taylor shook his head. "I don't think he wants to be found. I still leave food for him, so I know he's at least eating. There's not much else I can do."

Nash needed to do something to change Taylor's mood. He hated seeing him sad, especially about things he couldn't control. "I hope you plan to help me organize my booth next year," Nash told him. Nothing made Taylor happier than having his own way.

"Booth?" Damon tilted his head and they slowly set off to check out the rest of the vendors.

"I told Nash he should set up a booth here next year. People love his books and I think it would be a lot of fun." Taylor clung tightly to Nash's arm. Some of his tension still lingered, but he seemed determined to be happy and enjoy their night.

"You convinced him to extrovert?" Damon laughed. "Oh, this is going to be good."

"I'll be there to help him. It won't be that bad." Taylor looked at Nash. "Will it? You don't have to do it. It was just a suggestion."

"It'll be fun. But you have to help me. You can be my assistant."

Taylor's eyes sparkled. "Oooh. You'd be my boss. Why is that so hot? We should role-play that. You two can be the big, powerful corporate stooges and I'm just a lowly little secretary. Oops, I dropped a stack of files and made a mess. Maybe I should be punished. Please don't fire me. I'll do anything."

Nash let his hand slide down Taylor's back then he pinched his ass, earning him a yelp and a glare. "Behave yourself," he chided.

Taylor smirked. "Yes, boss."

"Don't call me boss, either."

Nash saw Taylor open his mouth to shoot off another smart retort, so he did the only thing he knew to do that would shut Taylor up. He hauled him close and slanted their mouths together. He kissed him hard and unrelenting with no regard for who might be watching. It was chaste enough, more lips and barely any tongue, but it left Taylor breathless and thankfully speechless.

"Mind if I cut in?" Damon asked, tugging Taylor over into his arms. "I do believe it's my turn to escort the princess through the fair."

Nash could never bring himself to say something so completely cheesy, but Damon loved that kind of thing, which was good because so did Taylor. Nash watched them share a sappy look, then an even sweeter kiss, before the three of them headed back up the other side of the street.

When Nash and Damon first started sneaking around, he'd never expected much of anything to come of it. A couple of mutual orgasms at the most, and then he thought they'd go back to the status quo. And they didn't. And then Taylor happened. Nash stepped over to Damon and took his hand.

Damon turned and shot him another sappy look. Nash stole a kiss from his other boyfriend without caring if anyone else approved or not. They were happy and that was all that mattered.

THE END