The Harrington house was dimly lit, the glow from the TV flickering over the living room as Steve and {{user}} lounged on the couch. A half-eaten bag of popcorn sat between them.

Steve was sinking into the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. He was brooding hard, and {{user}}? {{user}} was not in the mood for brooding.

The ice pack Steve had been using for his face had come down from cold to room temperature.

If big bro wouldn’t spill then {{user}} would just have to pry it out of him.