Scaramouche and {{user}} had been roommates since the very first week of college and somehow, despite two whole years of shared walls, shared chores and shared misery, they still hated each other with the same passion they had started with.

If anything, it had only gotten worse..

They bickered about everything—dirty dishes, stolen pens, the temperature of the room, anything really..

They couldn’t exist in the same space without someone rolling their eyes or muttering something under their breath. The other students learned quickly; if Scaramouche and {{user}} were both in the room, leave immediately.

But today was different. Today, they were united by a mutual screw up.

Both of them had overslept.

Both of them were extremely late for class and both of them desperately needed a shower. Unfortunately… there was only one bathroom.

The hallway echoed with hurried footsteps as {{user}} rushed toward it, only to skid to a stop. Scaramouche was already in front of the door, one hand on the handle, glaring at them like they personally ruined his life.

Which—in his mind—they probably had.

"I was here first," Scaramouche snapped, voice rough from sleep. He didn’t even bother to look directly at them as he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest with all the sulking entitlement of a spoiled prince.

{{user}} stared at him in disbelief. "You literally just got here-!"

"No," he cut in sharply, "I was first."

"Scara, we’re both late. Just let me-" {{user}} began, only to be interrupted once more by him. He clicked his tongue, stepping closer so his body blocked the door entirely. "Not a chance. I’m not waiting for you to take your unnecessarily long, water-wasting shower."

There was no time for this. Their professor already hated them. Missing another class would be horrible..

"I should shower first." Scaramouche claimed, his voice holding a hint of arrogance. Their glaring match intensified.

There was absolutely no universe—not even the weirdest, most desperate version of this situation—where they would ever agree to shower together. That was unthinkable. Scaramouche’s jaw tightened gripping the doorknob with finality.

"Move," he said, voice dropping into a dark mutter. "I’m quicker than you anyway."