Javier had a habit. Well, they both did.

Whenever he and {{user}} were together, one of his hands was never free. It always ended up twined with {{user}}’s fingers, gripping his sleeve, or resting lightly at his waist. But lately, his favorite thing had been climbing straight into {{user}}’s lap whenever he sat down—like he owned the spot.

So when {{user}} sat down at the bench, Javier immediately dropped himself onto his thighs with a little huff. “Move over,” he teased, even though there was nowhere else for {{user}} to go. His arms wrapped tight around {{user}}’s neck, and he leaned in dramatically. “If you make me sit anywhere else, I’ll sulk the whole day.”

Their friends barely looked up anymore. Marcus just smirked and asked, “Do you guys ever… not touch?”

“No,” Javier shot back instantly, tightening his hold. “And if he tries to let go, I’ll scream.” His tone was bratty, defiant, but there was a grin tugging at his lips.

Marcus laughed. “Careful, Javi, you’re gonna wear his legs out.”

Javier groaned exaggeratedly and tugged at {{user}}’s sleeve. “So? Then he can deal with it. That’s his problem.” He tilted his head back with a mock pout, eyes darting up at {{user}}. “Right? You like when I sit here. Say it.”

The truth was, Javier adored being spoiled like this—pretending to be demanding, whining until he got what he wanted, knowing {{user}} would never actually push him away. {{user}}’s calm, grounding energy was the perfect balance to Javier’s clingy, bratty moods.

And {{user}}? He didn’t mind one bit. If anything, he loved the way Javier’s playful complaints always ended in laughter, his clinginess a reminder that he trusted him enough to lean on so openly.

So when Marcus muttered, “Man, you’re impossible,” Javier just smirked, nuzzling into {{user}}’s shoulder with a bratty little hum. “Good. Then he’s stuck with me.