Jesse Rutherford sits at the kitchen table, his fingers tapping against the hardwood surface impatiently. He's waiting for the pan to start sizzling so he knows he can tip the rest of the onion in; hopefully the food will be ready by the time they're home - fuck, they should be here soon, and he can't possibly go thirty seconds without thinking about it.

He realises it's probably a bit too cold in the house - he's had the heating on low, it's only November and he doesn't want to waste the money, but Matty will be shivering from the cold outside anyway, and after however many months they've pretty much lived in a bus for (Jesse knows it's almost four, but he doesn't like to think of how long he's missed them for), he and George will both want the heat.

Jesse rushes off to flick the switches on all the radiators in the house, and as he gets back to the kitchen, the test piece of onion starts to sizzle, so he slides across the stone floor in his slippy socks, and tips the onion from the chopping board into the saucepan.

The smell of onions in the frying pan, cooking with various spices and George's favourite fancy olive oil, spreads throughout the flat as Jess pushes them around with a wooden spoon. It's only going in a soup, but he wants it to be good for his boyfriends when they get home: Matty and George are on a stupidly long overnight bus journey that encroaches into the next day - today - back from Glasgow, and Jesse is aware that they'll both need a good meal when they get home.

When the onions are soft, Jesse chucks them into their soup maker along with the leeks, potatoes, and hot water before blending them together and setting it the medium setting to simmer for a bit. It should be done soon, just needs to heat up a bit more: Jesse's already boiled the potatoes, so really, it's just a question of getting it hot enough for when they arrive.

He's not one hundred per cent on when Matty and George will get home - around midday, he's been told, but their estimates are infamously poor. And so, Jesse isn't surprised when they're not home by half twelve.

He pours the soup out into three bowls nevertheless, and puts cling film over the tops so that no flies or anything would get in - despite it being winter, and the fly population therefore being at a low point in the year. He just doesn't want to take any chances for their first proper, sit-down meal together in over three months.

Jesse had thought he could handle being away from Matty and George for such long periods of time - in fact, when their relationship started out, he hadn't been particularly bothered about George at all. It was all Matty at first, but by this point he feels almost as much love for George as he does Matty.

Thing is, it turns out being away from your boyfriends for months at a time is a whole lot harder than being away from a friend who you have a crush on, especially when there are two of them.

He is - of course - glad that Matty and George can find comfort in each other while they're away from him, because - of course - Matty and George suffer the same heartbreak that Jesse feels every time they leave him, though Jesse's is somewhat more distilled: they still have each other while Jesse is left alone. They have the excitement, the rush of touring. They have the countless fans to keep them company.

They'd agreed as a collective that it's fair enough if Jesse wants to fuck anyone else while Matty and George are away, but he can't bring himself to. There's no one else he truly wants any more, anyway.

Jesse is well aware that it's absolutely and totally worth it, though, for what he gets while they're all home: missing them both is impossibly hard, but he knew it would be a strain from the start, and the payoff is inexplicable.

It's ten to one by the time Matty and George eventually arrive in their taxi, having been dropped off in the centre of London so the bus could go back to the company they were renting from. Traffic had been awful, so George tells Jesse as they step over the threshold, completely drenched from the freezing winter rain, while apologising profusely for their wetness and how late they'd been.

"Probably just that everyone was being extra cautious with the rain and that - poor visibility. I'm so sorry about the floor, love, I'll mop it up in a bit, just let me dry off a bit first." George busies himself putting his coat on the hooks and pulling his boots off to put them on the shoe rack, not noticing how Jesse pulls Matty straight into a full-body hug the second the door closes, not caring in the slightest that his nicest top was getting soaked by the rainwater, or that Matty was trudging said water all over the hallway.

When George turns away from the wall, his socks immediately soaking up water from the floor where it's sliding off Matty's leather jacket and onto the wooden floorboards, his face turns up from his sour expression at the rain to beam at them both. His chest swells at how tightly Jesse is holding the short man and how impeccably close they are, Jesse's chin tucked perfectly over Matty's crown.

"Come on, love." George touches Matty's shoulder gently, beginning to slide his boyfriend's coat down his back as best as he can. Matty pulls away from Jesse slowly, keeping his face pushed flush against Jesse's neck as he allows his arms to fall down so that George can pull his coat off him. Jesse slips his hands underneath the jacket to grip Matty's waist, keeping him close until George has hung the jacket up, somewhat aware that the rain will still drip onto the floor.

It, at least, won't be all over the house anymore.

Matty tilts his head up to kiss Jesse for the first time in far too long while George busies himself with the coats once more. He's missed the feeling of Jesse's large hands rubbing firmly and slowly up his back, either side of his spine. Jesse pulls away after a few seconds, though: content, for now, with a simple kiss before lunch.

"I made soup." He supplies, stepping away from Matty slightly as George approaches to plant a brief, firm kiss on Jesse's lips.

"Missed you."

Jesse grins, unable to stop himself: it hadn't been until the last time Matty and George had a stint at home that George had begun to reciprocate Jesse's affection for him, and Jesse had missed the tall man almost as much as he'd missed Matty. "Missed you too, babe."

Matty begins to make his way into the kitchen, turning around to see that Jesse and George have moved in for a quick hug, their lips connecting once more. "Come on," he complains, stretching out the vowel sounds. "I'm hungry."

Smiles break out across both the other men's lips and they separate lazily. George kisses Jesse on the cheek before he saunters over to drape his arm around Matty's waist, letting his hand fall to the older man's bum, tapping it lightly as they walk to the kitchen, Jesse following closely behind.

"Did you say soup?"

Jesse nods, snaking an arm around Matty from the other side, brushing his fingertips up George's side. "Yeah. Leek and potato." He untucks the edges of the clingfilm so it won't explode or anything; pops them all in the microwave together; spins the dial to two minutes. "Tea?"

Matty hums eagerly, leaving George to roll his eyes. "Please, love."

Jesse physically can't help but smile at George trying to be polite to make up for Matty: he finds it somewhat endearing how Matty's too happy to see him to be particularly verbal, and just as charming of George to want to balance it out.

The smile doesn't budge as he turns to pull the kettle off its stand and fill it up before shoving it back down, rocking it a bit to get it on its stand properly before flicking the switch.

He busies himself opening the mug cupboard and tipping a tea bag into each, but only gets as far as the mug cupboard before George knocks his hand out the way and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him away from the counter and towards Matty.

"I'll do it, Jesse. Don't worry." George winks at him with the eye that Matty can't see, subtly gesturing towards the older man with his head. "He needs to be close to you. Can tell."

Jesse's smile grows impossibly when he realises Matty wants to spend as much time with him as he can while they're home, and he wastes no time in striding over to him, linking his fingers with Matty's, resting on the table. His stomach buzzes when Matty curves into him immediately, his head flopping as best as it can onto the taller man's shoulder.

By the time George has poured the boiling water into the mugs, taken the soup out of the microwave when the buzzer goes off, and set the bowls on the pale wooden table with a soup spoon next to each bowl, Jesse and Matty have twisted round to kiss again, desperately trying to catch up on all the time they've missed out on over the months in a few short minutes.

"Soup's up."

George rolls his eyes at their actions: they're acting like teenagers, desperately clutching at each other as soon as their parents turn their backs. The two tear apart; Matty blushes a deep pink and shuffles his chair on the short side of the table under the surface. He likes to have the two taller men on each long end, just around the corner from him so that he's right in the middle of them.

George sits at his place to Matty's right, dipping his spoon into the soup and cautiously blowing at the viscous liquid before slurping it carefully in case it's too hot. It hurts his tongue a little after the microwave, despite him being used to drinking tea practically straight out the kettle, so before Matty can gulp down the large spoon of soup he's lifting to his lips, George reaches across the large table to touch his wrist gently.

"Wait a minute, love. Don't want you burning yourself."

Matty carefully pours the soup back into the bowl - a pointless measure considering he drops the spoon back in after it - with a grateful smile, and turns to face Jesse, who is splashing milk into the mugs and removing the bags. "Can I have some bread, please?"

"Anything you want, love." Jesse brings the mugs to the table, the handles hooked carefully over his fingers to carry all three at once, before tugging the lid off the bread bin. "White or brown?"

Matty looks at George, who raises his eyebrows. "Brown."

George grins at him, squeezing his hand: he's been trying to get Matty eating healthier, and it's finally working. Figures he could do with balancing out the alcohol.

"So-" Jesse goes about buttering two pieces of bread as he speaks, knowing George doesn't care which kind of bread he gives him- "How did the tour go? Saw the photos, of course, that last show looked awesome."

The band had only had one London date for each stint in England on the tour, and both times they'd had to drive to the next city straight after the gig, leaving Matty and George only a few hours with Jesse before the shows, and little to none after.

"It's been great, yeah. Loved the, uh - what show was it, George? LA?"

George snorts - Matty has been going on about the LA show since it happened; he's pretty sure it was the only show Matty can name the city of, and he knows full well Matty is completely aware that it was LA but doesn't want to seem overly enthusiastic. "That's the one, love."

"Yeah - crowd had this glorious energy, everyone was so into it, and we played so well. Think it was the best performance of If I Believe You we've ever done, honestly."

He pauses to slurp his tea, wincing when it's still too hot, and slams the mug back on the shitty cardboard square with Guinness lettered on it: they'd nicked a few from a pub one time, deciding it'd suit the general aesthetic of their house. "Wish we'd recorded it, actually."

George nods - he agrees, absolutely, that the crowd had been remarkable and that they had played magnificently, not to blow his own trumpet. "No way we could've known to, though."

"I know. Just a shame, that's all." Matty's sigh is audible, and he reaches to have another go at his tea, forcing himself to take a proper gulp. The liquid stings his throat and he winces again.

Jesse shakes his head at Matty as he plops the plate of buttered bread down in the middle of the table, and slides Matty's tea away from him on the cardboard coaster. "Learn from your mistakes, angel." Matty rolls his eyes, going for another try at the soup when George doesn't stop him this time. "I'll have a go at finding some videos of that show, though. I'm sure someone recorded some of it nicely. How's the soup?"

Matty has his mouth full of bread dipped in soup now, simply nodding with the biggest smile on his face he can manage while chewing. George tips a proper spoonful into his mouth, swallowing before responding.

"'s gorgeous, Jesse. Cheers, love."

The grin that spreads across Jesse's face is the purest, loveliest thing Matty thinks he's seen in years. "I'm glad. You deserve it."

~

After their meal, and after George finishes washing their bowls, letting Matty slide his chair closer to Jesse's as they catch up with what had happened over the last few months, the three of them end up curled into together on the two-person sofa.

Matty is squished between Jesse and George, as always. They're watching Those People, some film that Matty had bought the DVD of on impulse for fifteen quid off Amazon while on tour. He'd forgotten that he wouldn't be home for months and that he wouldn't be able to watch it before then unless he streamed it, and after buying it, he was adamant that he'd wait until he could watch it properly, "in my own fucking living room, George, with milky hot chocolate and a blanket and my boys next to me, okay?"

George hadn't argued.

So that's exactly the position they're in: Matty has a huge One Direction mug full of hot chocolate - made with milk, not water, because George isn't a fool and knows Matty can tell if he's cheap and does half-and-half. George and Jesse are pressed into his sides, Matty's own knees tucked up to his chest, poking out the holes in his jeans.

It's pretentious indie film: gay and enjoyable, but pretentious all the same. Very little plot, and a whole lot of gay, which is mostly what Matty looks for in films.

Though, due to the lack of plot, it's no great shakes when, halfway through the film, once Matty has finished his hot chocolate and asked George to put the mug on the floor at the end of the sofa, Jesse places his fingertips lightly on Matty's thigh (now flat on the sofa) and rubs delicate circles into his flesh.

Jesse looks over Matty's head, the movement catching George's attention. Jesse glances down at his hand and then flicks his eyes back up at George, who raises his eyebrows before letting his own hands drift, one to Matty's other thigh, and one to his arm, rubbing gently.

Matty sinks further into the sofa, relaxing under their touch and falling against Jesse's side, trying fiercely to pay attention to the film. It's hard to do so, though, when there are three men getting close to a threesome in the film and he can't help but think of Jesse and George touching him the way that the men on the screen are touching each other.

It isn't more than thirty seconds until Matty is craning his neck up to kiss whoever made themselves available to him - George goes for his lips, Jesse for his outstretched neck - because the film has cut away from the bare-chested men and Matty wants some other kind of stimulation.

The hands on his thighs start to rub a little more firmly, and Matty can tell that while George is keeping himself back, though Jesse - despite probably trying to go slowly - is already creeping his palm up Matty's leg, dipping slightly between his thighs as it moves, most likely faster than Jesse means it to.

Matty may be in his mid twenties, but neither of the other men can deny that he still has the sexual energy of an eighteen-year-old, with heat already flooding to his cock, and his lips fluttering in groans at George's lips and teeth at his throat.

Jesse has, at some point, swung a leg over Matty's so that he's straddling his thigh. Matty hadn't noticed this until now, as Jesse trails a hand down from where it had been resting on the younger man's hip to rub at his cock, smiling as much as he can while kissing Matty, who's rolling his pelvis up to meet Jesse's hand.

Matty comes easily once Jesse gets his tight jeans down his skinny thighs; it barely takes five minutes of Jesse's mouth on him and George's lips practically sucking holes in the flesh exposed by his shirt, unbuttoned by one of the men at some point, before he lets go. Jesse and George lazily get themselves off while rubbing their hands over Matty, avoiding contact with each other until they each release over Matty's bare legs.

When Jesse stands up after a few minutes of letting his head rest on Matty's knee, he sees that Matty is staring at him drowsily; George slumped into the sofa, possibly asleep already.

"Such an old man, him. You'd never guess he's younger than you."

Matty smiles sleepily, reaching his hands out to Jesse. "Want a bath."

Jesse takes Matty's hands in his own immediately, tugging gently to help him up. Matty practically collapses against him; Jesse manages to wrap his arms around him instinctively to stop him falling. "Whoa there, baby. Careful."

"Sorry. Headrush." Matty leans his head against Jesse's chest, just below his collarbones; feels Jesse slot his hands around his waist, under his open shirt.

"Can you jump up, baby?" Jesse questions gently, figuring Matty's not really capable of walking right now, and rubs his thumbs over Matty's heated skin.

He feels Matty nod a little against his shoulder, and so he counts down from three so Matty can prepare himself to jump; lifts and holds him up until he has his legs wrapped around Jesse's hips. "Well done, angel."

He rests a hand at the small of Matty's back as support while he squats slightly to drag a blanket over George from the arm of the sofa, kissing his cheek before he straightens up again to carry Matty upstairs to the bathroom.

Jesse sits Matty down on the toilet seat as he starts the bath running, hoping he can still get the ratio right after so many months without running a bath for anyone other than himself.

"Is it warm enough in here for you to get undressed and ready?"

Matty nods, not that he's got much to take off. His bum's already freezing a bit against the toilet seat, though, so he stands up and stretches as he shrugs off his shirt, pushes his pants and jeans from his mid-thighs to the floor.

He watches in the mirror as he shakes his hair out, fluffing it a little, and spots his bubble bath on one of the shelves in the reflection. He usually saves this stuff for a bad day, but it smells of comfort and home, so he steps over to pour a little under the hot stream.

It doesn't seem to bubble much at first, so Matty pours a little more in, and then a little more, until it suddenly all foams up at once, and by the time Jesse is back in the bathroom, jogging bottoms and t-shirts in hand, there's a whole mountain of bubbles erupting over the top of the bath. Thankfully, they're not pouring over the edge, but it looks close.

Jesse steps forward; drops the clothes by the heated towel rack in the hopes that they'll warm up a bit; takes the bottle from Matty's hand.

"That's enough of that, I reckon."

Matty chuckles, shrugging. "Sorry, Jess. Didn't look like it was doing anything."

Jesse rolls his eyes and scoops a handful of the bubble off of the top, gently placing a lump of foam on Matty's nose. Matty gasps indignantly, retaliating by shoving a load on Jesse's chin, though Jesse simply adds more to shape it into a beard.

The pair continue to play around with the bubbles until Jesse decides the bath's full enough, and even then, Matty refuses to take off his bubble eyebrows until they've all popped.