“It would be okay, I suppose,” he muttered, tucking one hand under his chin. “If she didn’t keep asking me when I’ll bring a girl home, and stopped yelling at me for styling Sara’s hair.” Through his half-slitted eyes he could barely see the smiles that flashed across the room at him, but he grunted and waved a hand flippantly in their direction anyway. “I mean, I was just helping the poor girl out – her hair is downright wild sometimes…”

“You know,” drawled a voice from somewhere to his right, a foot poking his thigh as the person shifted on the couch. “You should stop worrying about it, it’s not healthy.”

To his left two pairs of eyes rolled. “So says the fucking sex-god of Tokyo,” joked one, and shot a significant look at the other. “The drop-dead…” he started, and his twin picked it up perfectly “…gorgeous king of…”

“Cool,” they chorused in tandem.

Beside him Alexander felt his friend stir, a soothing hand placed on his ankle absently. “The prince of perfection,” he said with a grin, knowing Kazuki was rolling his eyes and slinking back into the cushions with every jibe.

“The duke of debauchery,” quipped Ikkesh as he ran a hand through his twin’s hair. “The superman of sex,” chimed Irijah, tipping his head back on his brother’s knee and flashing him a smile.

Kazuki groaned, rolling over on the couch and hooking an arm over the back of his head in order to block out the noise. Alex smiled, eyes still half-closed as he murmured, “and you know you like it Nix.” By the window Matt shifted, pushing his sun-bleached hair away from his eyes as he looked out. “People think I’m gay because I hang out with a bunch of queers,” he muttered wistfully, “but really they’re just jealous because their friends aren’t as cool as this.”

Alex snorted, opening his eyes to stare at the seventeen year old, who lounged contently in the black leather lazy-boy pushed up against the wall. “Exactly.”

The twins chuckled, mirror images of bright smiles and vibrant red hair, voices similar but not quite the same… yet the only real difference was the eyes. Irijah rolled his back, burrowing in against his brother’s legs as he sighed thoughtfully, and twisting when Ikkesh silently demanded more access to his head. Alex ignored them – he had long since grown used to the fact that they couldn’t go a few minutes without touching– and flicked his attention to the young Japanese sprawled out beside him.

Kazuki was, well, gorgeous - tall and lanky, with his black and blonde hair, his deep brown eyes, and a smile that just lit up the entire room… and his accent. Who knew Greek and Asian mixed so well?

He wasn’t smiling now, though, or at least not as far as Alex could tell – it was kind of hard, since he had his head buried in the couch and all. “Hey Nix,” he said, rubbing one hand across his friend’s bare calf, “say it and I’ll give you some food.”

Nothing.

“Chocolate?”

“Fine,” came the almost incomprehensible reply.

“Ah ah ah,” tsked Irijah. “Say it so we care hear you.”

Kazuki lay still for a moment, then ever so slowly levered himself up on his elbows. “I am the king of cool,” he muttered in his strange, drawn-out lilt. “I am the sex-god of Tokyo, the prince of perfection, the duke of debauchery,” he smiled in that lazy way they all recognized, “and I blow your fucking brains out because I am just. That. Good.”

Four bright smiles blazed right on back at him.

“Yeah, I think that’s good enough.”