Sitting on any type of furniture next to Mike was a total hassle -- he always spread his legs, practically taking in every inch of space on the couch and effectively leaving you tucked into whatever corner was left. When you pointed him out on it, all you got was a half-assed "Sorry," and then he'd do it again the very next day.

Today was such a day, where Mike sat on the couch, hair and clothes damp from the shower he just had, and his legs spread out lazily as he watched TV. Abby was fast asleep in her bed, her bedtime having passed ages ago. Mike shot a glance at you and smirked. He knew what he was doing.