Operation Fake Relationship

There was no way he would be able to get back to sleep with all these thoughts rattling around his head.

One thing Jackson was sure of. If he was going to stand any chance of regaining his equilibrium with Nick, this had to stop right now. They were going to go home today and find a way to put this behind them, write it off as some kind of temporary insanity. If Jackson had his way he’d forget it had ever happened, but failing that, he’d make damn sure it would never happen again.

With that thought in mind, he pushed the covers aside and got out of bed as quietly and carefully as he could. Nick stirred but remained asleep as Jackson fumbled around in the darkness, trying to gather up his clothes so he could get dressed in the bathroom. On his way to the door, he bashed his knee on the corner of the bed with a loud thump and cursed at the sharp pain.

“Jackson?” Nick sat up, a dim shape in the darkness.

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting up. I was going to go and have a shower.”

“What time is it?”

“Six thirty.”

“Ugh. Seriously? Why so early? Come back to bed for a bit.”

“No. I’m wide awake. And I’m up now. Shh. Go back to sleep.” His hand was already on the door handle. Jackson had to escape the delicious temptation of a warm Nick in a cosy bed, because he’d already demonstrated that he couldn’t trust himself to behave.

“Are you okay?” Nick’s tone had an edge of worry.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He knew he didn’t sound very convincing, but it was the best he could manage.

Out on the landing with the bedroom door shut behind him, Jackson took a deep breath and blew it out through his mouth slowly, shaking his head.

He was so fucking far from fine.

But he’d get over it—somehow.

Nick got up and started packing while Jackson was showering. He’d been hoping for a lie-in, and perhaps a morning blow job. But it seemed that was off the cards. Maybe it was for the best. They should probably use their mouths for talking instead.

When Jackson returned, fully dressed and smelling of shampoo and toothpaste, Nick greeted him with a smile that felt slightly strained.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Jackson’s answering smile lacked its usual warmth, and he turned away to put his washbag down. But before Nick could ask anything more searching, he added, “I’m hungry though. I think I might head down to get some breakfast, if that’s okay?” His gaze raked over Nick’s state of undress. “I’m assuming you want to shower first?”

Nick wasn’t sure if he was asking for permission because it was Nick’s family home, or whether he was asking if Nick minded Jackson going without him.

“Yeah sure. Help yourself to anything. Mum and Dad won’t mind. I’m going to finish packing, then I’ll jump in the shower and follow you down in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Left alone, Nick threw himself back on the bed for a moment and lay staring at the ceiling.

Is he avoiding me?

Maybe he really was hungry, and Nick was just being paranoid. His anxiety about everything was clouding his ability to think clearly. He got up and carried on packing, going through the motions on autopilot while his thoughts ran in unhelpful and unhappy circles.

When Nick went downstairs, he followed the sound of conversation to the kitchen and found everyone was there aside from Pete—who was presumably still in bed. Seth was in his highchair eating a piece of toast that had been cut into fingers while the adults sat around the table. Some of them were eating, others drinking cups of tea or coffee.

“Morning, Nick.” His dad noticed him first, greeting him with a smile and a nod.

“Good morning, everyone.” Nick let his gaze flit around before settling on Jackson. Their eyes locked and Nick’s heart did a weird fluttery thing. But then Jackson looked away and the feeling was stamped out by disappointment.

Seeking distraction, Nick focused his attention on Seth who had brown smears all over his face.

“Hey, buddy. What are you eating?”

“Marmite on toast.” Adrian wrinkled his nose. “I can’t believe any son of mine could like that stuff!”

“He’s my son too,” Maria said. “He clearly got the loves-Marmite gene from me.”

“Well he definitely didn’t get it from me! It’s vile.”

Jackson chuckled, sounding like his normal self. “Ah, the great Marmite debate. I’m with you, man. It’s gross.”

“Lies. It’s delicious!” Nick joined in, relieved. This argument was familiar ground and he latched onto it, glad of the normality.

“Nah,” Jackson said. “Your taste buds must be deficient.”

Nick’s spirits lifted as they grinned at each other. “Bollocks. There’s nothing wrong with my taste buds.”

“Nick!” his mum said. “Watch your language around Seth!”