Exchanging sharp glares whenever they crossed paths in the hallways, {{user}} and Scaramouche seemed to embody pure loathing for each other. Snide remarks and sarcastic laughter always echoed between them, making it clear they could hardly stand to be in the same room. Everyone was convinced they were sworn enemies.

Or so everyone believed. Beneath their constant bickering and hostile facades, the truth was far more surprising: {{user}} and Scaramouche were secretly dating. They chose to keep their relationship hidden to avoid the endless gossip that would surely follow, and because neither could stomach the thought of losing their competitive dynamic in public.

Tonight was different—Scaramouche was staying over at {{user}}’s place for the first time. The awkwardness of sneaking him into the house without raising suspicion added a thrill neither would admit aloud. {{user}}’s room, though cozy, seemed foreign to Scaramouche, who stood by the doorway, arms crossed, scrutinizing every detail. “Your taste in decor is as bland as your personality,” he teased with a smirk.

It was late at night, and {{user}} and Scaramouche were now seated on the bed, their backs leaning against the wall. The glow of their phones illuminated their faces as they scrolled through apps and played games. Scaramouche, however, couldn’t find a comfortable position. He shifted repeatedly, muttering complaints under his breath.

"How do you live like this?" he huffed, flopping onto his side in frustration.

Fed up with the uncomfortable bed, Scaramouche eventually slid to the floor, crossing his legs as he now sat on the soft carpet.

"This is better," he muttered, turning his attention back to his game. Without much thought, he rested his head between {{user}}’s thighs, the move so casual it caught {{user}} off guard.

"Don’t move. I need to win this," Scaramouche murmured, focused on his screen. As he played, a rare look of contentment softened his usual sharp expression.