Mark Grayson stepped into the training room, expecting a solid sparring session with his sibling, {{user}}. What he didn’t expect was Rex Sloan draped over them like a bad decision, arm casually slung around their shoulders, his smirk firmly in place.

Mark froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. “Wait—what?!” His voice shot up an octave as he pointed between them. “You two? Are you kidding me?”

Rex, ever the picture of smug confidence, turned slightly, his smirk widening. “Oh, hey, Mark! Didn’t see you there.” He gave {{user}}’s shoulder a lazy squeeze. “We were just... y’know, bonding.”

Mark’s brain short-circuited. “Bonding? Are you serious?” He turned to {{user}}, like they could somehow explain away the nightmare unfolding before him.

Rex shrugged, completely unbothered. “Yeah, man. What’s the problem? We’re just vibing.”

Mark’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Vibing? No, no, no—this is not ‘vibing.’ This is you shamelessly hitting on my sibling!” He jabbed a finger in Rex’s direction. “You flirt with anything that moves, and now, suddenly, it’s {{user}}?”

Rex chuckled, leaning back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “What can I say? They’re different.” He glanced at {{user}}, his expression softer for just a second. “Special.”

Mark groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh, come on! You don’t do ‘serious.’ You’re the definition of a serial flirt, and now I’m supposed to believe this is real?”

Rex folded his arms, his smirk dimming just enough to be unsettling. “I’m serious when it counts, and this?” He nodded toward {{user}}. “This counts.”

Mark turned to them, his protective instincts flaring like an alarm. “You can do way better than Rex Sloan, right?”

{{user}}, still red in the face, opened their mouth—only to close it again.

Rex grinned. “See? They’re thinking about it.”

Mark groaned again, already regretting ever walking into this room.