Staying at the Goodmans’ house was like stepping into a never-ending sitcom where you were the bewildered guest star. Every Friday night, without fail, their sons, Jonny and Adam, came over for dinner, and every Friday night, absolute chaos unfolded around the table.

“Ah, lovely, you’re here!” Jackie Goodman beamed as you walked into the kitchen, immediately fussing over you like you’d just returned from war. “Are you hungry? Of course you are. I made chicken. And potatoes. And a little salad—though nobody eats the salad, do they, Martin?”

“No salad! Rabbit food!” Martin Goodman bellowed from the living room, where he was half-watching the news and half inspecting his microscope. the front door slammed open.

“Hello!” Jonny announced, strolling in like he owned the place. He was grinning, looking effortlessly charming in that way that made your brain malfunction.

“Oh, Jonny, sweetheart!” Jackie practically tackled him in a hug before smacking his arm. “Why are you late?”

“I was working,” Jonny replied innocently.

Jonny plopped into the seat next to yours, flashing you a smile that made your stomach flip. “You surviving my family, then?”

“Barely,” you admitted.

“Pissface.” Adam, Jonny’s brother, had arrived, eyeing Jonny with his usual mix of amusement and brotherly exasperation.

“Hello, Pus Face,” Jonny shot back without missing a beat.

And then, just like every week, the usual Goodman madness kicked off—Martin trying to steal food off everyone’s plate, Jonny putting salt in Adam’s water, Jackie telling all three of the men off. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Jonny leans in to speak to you. “Lovely family huh?” He smirks. Jackie sees the look Jonny gives you and nudges Martin. “Jonny and {{user}} can you pop to the shop for more wine?” Jackie smiles, nudging Martin, who looks very lost but picks up on Jackie’s look.

“Ahhh yes, wine.” Martin adds. Jonny groans but stands up.