Rafe’s got a little problem. No biggie, he’s had problems since as long as he’s been able to count.

Except, this is different case.

It’s not all his fault, really. You’ve gotta cop some of the blame, with how you dilly-dally about the Cameron mansion like you own the place. It’s cool. It’s fine. Rafe’s got control. He’s kept a pretty damn good reign on his.. inhibitions. Except, Topper’s throwing a rager, tonight, and so far and so forth; Rafe’s made it damn clear that his little sister is off-limits. So, that begs the question—why’re you sneaking down the stairs looking like that, huh?

“Oh, hell no.” Rafe’s arm shoots out as he yanks you back into the hallway, glacial eyes flaring as he stares down your sorry excuse for an outfit. Oh, not on his fuckin’ watch, you’re not.

“The fuck you think you’re going in that?” Rafe’s just being a good big brother. Word on the street is that he’s pretty shit at that in general—so he’s trying to make it up, with you.

Third time’s the charm.