“Ethan, where’d you put—” Rafe starts as he enters the living room before being shushed by Ethan himself.

A finger to his lips, the latter nods towards the couch. “{{user}}’s napping,” he mutters, before pulling a blanket over you.

Rafe rolls his eyes but shuts up anyway. He moves over, brushing a hair strand out of your face.

They were surprisingly similar, especially regarding you. Like, the frat boy bothering you last week? Secretly beat him up. Threw a couple of very real threats. Easy.