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Thirty-five degrees outside, and fifty-five in the house. Izzy could have afforded to turn the thermostat up, except for the kids.
Kids, his ass. Grown adults, every single one of them, but for some ungodly reason, they all preferred to live together.
With him.
Archie started it, calling him Mum, and now they all did it. He was Izzy, or Mum, and though he'd never admit it, he thought of himself (depending on the day) as either a den mother or a mama duck with a string of little ducklings waddling behind.
And it wasn't like he was ungrateful. When he'd had his accident and crushed his leg, Jim and Archie had been there the whole time. They'd been first to move in after the amputation, and Jim had made sure that Izzy went to therapy, helped him navigate the insurance and pushed him to get a lawyer.
The settlement had paid all of Izzy's bills, and because he'd lost his leg, he'd been awarded a generous lump sum settlement as well as a yearly annuity. All in all, he was comfortably set, at least comfortable enough to turn up the damn thermostat.
After Jim and Archie, it'd been Fang. Fang was just getting certified as a physical therapist, so it made sense to Jim to have him move in, room and board in exchange for working with Izzy.
Then Fang mentioned Frenchie, a friend of theirs who had been couch surfing for a few weeks. So Izzy invited him in, gave him the finished bedroom in the basement. John Feeney was Frenchie's partner, so even though John had an apartment, he was mostly living with Frenchie.
Jim brought a gorgeous and talented woman named Zheng Yi Sao, introduced her as their boyfriend's girlfriend, and shoved a bowl of soup in his hands. So, Zheng had moved in with her aunt and Oluwande Boodhari, who was Jim's boyfriend as well as Zheng's.
Yeah, Izzy didn't even try to figure out how that worked. He traded bedrooms, giving Jim and the others the main master on the second floor, and took the larger bedroom on the first floor. It was so much easier on his prosthetic, not going upstairs all the fucking time.
The most recent roommate was Roach Bakary, another chef and a friend of Izzy's. Some nights, they shared the bedroom, other nights, Roach slept in his own room or with John and Frenchie.
This was the fullest Izzy’s house had ever been. It'd been an adjustment; the three-story six-bedroom monstrosity had been nearly empty since the divorce, and even before, it'd been just him and Ed.
Now, though, it felt like a real family home. But none of them were slack. They refused to let Izzy pay their bills. Every one of them paid Izzy every month, rent and utilities and groceries. Sometimes it was less than others, but Izzy had no problem with carrying the slack.
Which led back to the thermostat. The family had decided to leave the thermostat down to 55 in the winter, and 72 in the summer, and no protest Izzy made would get them to change.
So, here Izzy was, muttering to himself and stomping around the house. The cold made his stump ache, and all he really wanted to do was crawl under the electric blanket in the bedroom and get it warmed up.
"Yo, Izzy, you okay?"
"Fine," Izzy bit out, careful to keep his teeth chattering silenced.
"Mentiroso, it's your leg, yeah?"
Izzy scowled at being called a liar. "It's okay, just a little bit stiff," he admitted.
"Get off it, then." Jim roughly led Izzy over to the comfortable couch and pushed him down on it. "Want to take the leg off?"
"No, it'll just hurt more later on when I put it back on." Izzy startled a bit when Jim threw one of John's knitted afghans over him, and followed it with a rainbow fleece that smelled suspiciously like Archie's cologne. Jim joined him on the couch, snuggling up next to the other man. Their hand started massaging the tight muscles of Izzy's thigh, scowling. "Take it easy," Izzy warned.
"I should tell Fang on you. You obviously haven't been doing your massages," Jim threatened, moving both hands down to work the aching muscles.
"Tell Fang what?" The man in question had heard his name from another room, and came in.
"Cold's bothering his leg," Jim answered. "Muscles feel hard as a brick wall."
"Well, that's not completely surprising; cold can affect nerves as well as muscles and joints," he answered. "You want me to get the warming oil and give you a rub-down?"
"Yes," Jim answered at the same time Izzy said "Not necessary, thanks."
Fang sat down on the other side of Izzy, and pulled him in against his side. "Let's see if we can get you relaxed, and then we'll see about the massage later," Fang decided. "But first we have to get you warm."
"Could turn the heat up," Izzy pointed out, as Fang laughed.
"No need for that." He took his leather jacket off, and draped it over Izzy's chest and shoulders. His cologne mixed nicely with whatever Archie had spilled on the other blanket, and as much as he hated to admit it, between the blankets, Fang's jacket, and the body heat, he was beginning to feel nice and toasty.
Frenchie joined them a few minutes later, and took the situation in. Five minutes later, he was back with a silver carafe of hot chocolate, a tray of mugs, and a bag of mini-marshmallows. Izzy received the first mug gratefully, and didn't even protest when Frenchie piled in the marshmallows. He joined the cuddle pile, sitting half on Jim's lap and half on Izzy's. His only comment was to yell out "Hey, Archie! Get in on this!"
Archie came thundering down the stairs, and flopped onto the pile, sitting on Fang and curling up with her head on Izzy's chest. "Hey, Mum."
"I will kill you," Izzy threatened without anger, entirely too comfortable in the pile to effectively threaten.
"Nah, you love us." Jim pinched Izzy's hip.
"Hey, John knitted a blanket for our bed, it'd be just big enough for all of us." Frenchie got up to retrieve the blanket, threw it over all of them when he got back, and burrowed back into the pile. He worked his way in so that he was halfway between Jim and Izzy, and Jim made room for him.
Roach and Zheng Yi Sao were in the kitchen, Frenchie informed them. Zheng was making her special noodle soup, and Roach was working on a special dessert, or else they'd be in here, too.
Izzy just sighed. "Someone ought to turn on the TV," he pointed out. "Since we're all here, might as well watch something."
"Maybe they've still got that fireplace thing going. Nice ambience," Frenchie offered.
"Or you could actually build a fire in the fireplace," Fang suggested. "There's one right there."
"Yeah, but is there firewood?"
Archie snorted. "Fuck yeah there is, chopped it myself a few weeks ago, before Jim told me that Izzy doesn't ever use it. But there is absolutely firewood. And kindling."
"Chimney been cleaned lately?" Because apparently, Fang had crowned himself Safety Officer of this collective.
"Once a year," Izzy responded. "Keeps it clear of squirrels and bird nests."
"Great!" Jim dragged themselves out from under Frenchie and all the blankets. "I got a lighter. We'll get a fire going, get Izzy nice and warm, and then we'll all have soup for dinner and watch a movie."
A general feeling of excitement filled the room; they were all in need of serious entertainment if building a goddamn fire was the highlight of the day. "Let me get John, he'd never forgive me if I let him miss firebuilding."
"Yo, stay on the couch, madre," Jim ordered as Izzy made to get up. "Fang, stay with him, make sure he sits."
"On it." Fang wrapped his arms around Izzy's chest and hugged him tight under the leather jacket. "Warming up nicely, aren't you?"
"... Maybe," Izzy admitted, sipping at his hot cocoa while he watched the kids load the fire and kindling into the fireplace, and gave John the honor of striking the lighter and torching the newspaper that lay under the twigs and branches of kindling.
Pretty soon, the fire was roaring, and everyone had some of Frenchie's mini-marshmallows on sticks salvaged from the kindling box. Izzy was sitting on the floor, with everyone else clustered around him. Fang's jacket was around his shoulders, the rainbow blanket tucked around his legs and hips, and the other blankets either on the floor to form a nest or wrapped and wadded to serve as lounging poufs.
Roach and Zheng came in and out, offering everyone samples to taste and stealing marshmallows from other people's sticks. Once, Roach traded nibbles of chocolate pastry for kisses, and earned smooches from Izzy, Fang, and Archie. Jim refused, and Frenchie was canoodling with John.
Yeah, okay.
The house finally felt like a fuckin' home.
The End