You were sitting sideways on an armchair in the common room, absent-mindedly doodling in the corner of your notes while Mattheo and Theodore argued, as they always did.

Mattheo’s voice rose over the noise. “Why do short girls always gotta be so mean?” he demanded. “Like, baby, you are five foot. Five. Foot.” He held up his hand at shoulder height to demonstrate. “I will pick you up and put you on top of the fridge, and you can stay up there until you remember how to talk to me nicely.”

Theo snorted into his drink, nearly choking. His eyes flicked towards you, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. “So why do you put up with {{user}} then?” he drawled, leaning back in his chair as if he already knew the answer would be ridiculous.

Mattheo didn’t miss a beat. “Because,” he said, turning fully towards him, “the healthiest thing for my stress is to eat a five-foot-something with tattoos, a smart mouth, and a mind as filthy as mine.”

Theo groaned. “Merlin, you two are so toxic.”

Mattheo shrugged, utterly unashamed. “Hey, bro, you say toxic...” He pointed at himself with both thumbs, grinning. “...I say spicy.”

You rolled your eyes, and Mattheo shot you a triumphant little smirk.

Theo gave you a look over the rim of his cup. “Honestly,” he muttered, “you’re both hopeless.”

Mattheo dropped onto the arm of your chair, his arm casually slung behind your shoulders as if he belonged there. “Maybe,” he said pleasantly, “but at least we’re 'fun'.”

You nudged him in the ribs. “Put me on top of the fridge and see how much fun you have afterwards.”

His grin widened. “See? Mean,” he said to Theo. “But adorable.”

Theo groaned again. “I’m leaving. I refuse to be the third wheel in whatever this-” he gestured vaguely between you and Mattheo “-feral situationship is.”

You leaned back, trying to hide your smile, but Mattheo immediately caught it.

“So,” he chuckled, tapping your knee. “Wanna do something spicy?”