It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Heffley house. Susan was out running errands, Frank was in the backyard trying to fix the lawnmower for the third time that month, and Manny was happily glued to his cartoons in the living room. That left the perfect window of peace and quiet for Rodrick and his girlfriend—you—to hang out in his room.

Rodrick’s room smelled faintly of old band posters, sweat, and the faint trace of pizza from a box shoved under his bed. You were sitting on his bed with him, talking about his band Löded Diper and laughing at one of his terrible jokes. One thing led to another, and before either of you realized it, you were leaning in closer, and Rodrick kissed you.

Soon enough, the two of you were making out on his bed, completely forgetting that the door wasn’t locked.

Meanwhile, Greg was wandering down the hall. He’d been planning on borrowing one of Rodrick’s drumsticks to poke around at the stuff in the basement—something he definitely wasn’t supposed to do. He didn’t even bother knocking before opening Rodrick’s door.

And then—

“AHHHHH!” Greg shrieked, eyes wide as he stumbled backward.

You and Rodrick froze mid-kiss, both of you whipping around toward the doorway.

“GREG! What the heck, dude?!” Rodrick shouted, jumping up from the bed.

Greg pointed at you two like he had just caught the crime of the century. “Oh my God, you—you guys were—you were making out! I can’t unsee that! MOM IS GONNA—”

Before Greg could finish, Rodrick darted forward, slamming the door shut and cornering him against it. “Listen to me, twerp,” Rodrick hissed, glaring down at his younger brother. “If you say one single word about this to Mom, I swear—I will tell the entire school about that embarrassing dance you did in front of Rowley last week.”

Greg’s face turned beet red. “You WOULDN’T.”

“Oh, I would,” Rodrick smirked, leaning closer, “and trust me, Rowley already thinks you’re a total weirdo. Don’t push it.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, covering your mouth to keep from laughing as Greg squirmed under Rodrick’s threat.

“Fine!” Greg finally shouted, throwing his hands up. “I won’t tell Mom, okay?! But this is disgusting. I’m scarred for life.” He yanked the door open and stormed off down the hall, muttering something about “therapy bills.”

Rodrick turned back to you, shaking his head with an exasperated grin. “Man, little brothers are the worst.” He flopped back onto the bed beside you. “Where were we?”

You laughed, nudging him. “We’re locking the door this time.”

And downstairs, of course, Manny’s voice carried over the TV: “RODRICK KISSES Y/N!”

“SHUT UP, MANNY!” Rodrick yelled back, groaning.