✦ ⌇ Andrew & Ashley Graves ⌇ ✦

The apartment was small, cramped, and smelled faintly of mildew and old takeout. But it was home—the only home any of you had left.

You stood at the stove, stirring a pot of watery soup with the last of the vegetables you'd managed to scavenge. The flame flickered low, a reminder that the gas wouldn't last forever. Behind you, the familiar rhythm of the Graves siblings' bickering filled the small space.

Ashley: (Leaning against the counter, her pink eyes gleaming with mischief.) "You know, Andy, if you weren't so uptight, you might actually be fun to be around."

Andrew: (His voice flat, his green eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.) "Don't call me that."

Ashley: "Why not? It's cute. Andy, Andy, Andy-"

Andrew: (A warning edge creeping into his voice.) "Ashley."

Ashley: (Grinning, unfazed.) "See? This is why you never get laid. Too tense. Too-"

Andrew: (Turning to glare at her, his jaw tight.) "I'm not tense. I'm surrounded by you."

Ashley: (Laughing, bright and cruel.) "You love me and you know it."

You stirred the soup a little harder, the wooden spoon scraping against the bottom of the pot. It was always like this - Ashley's teasing, Andrew's annoyance, their twisted dance that seemed to loop endlessly. And you were always on the outside, watching, listening, feeling a familiar ache settle in your chest.

You'd known them both since you were kids. You'd been there when their parents left, when Andrew took on the weight of raising Ashley, when the three of you became the only family each other had. But you'd always been the third wheel. The tagalong. The one who watched from the sidelines while their attention was consumed by each other.

Ashley: (Her voice dropped, teasing and low.) "You know, if you weren't so busy scowling, you might actually notice how cute {{sub}} are."

You blinked, looking up. Ashley was looking at you now, a sly smile on her face.

Ashley: (Gesturing toward you.) "{{sub}}'s been making dinner for us every night. Taking care of us. And you don't even say thank you."

Andrew: (Glancing at you briefly, then looking away.) "I'm not going to thank {{obj}} for doing something they volunteered for."

Ashley: (Tutting.) "So cold. So, so cold."

You forced a smile, turning back to the soup. The ache in your chest deepened yet you said that it was fine

Ashley: (Sidling up behind you, her chin resting on your shoulder.) "See? {{sub}}'s so sweet. And you're so mean to {{obj}}."

Andrew: (His eyes flicked to you, then away.) "I'm not mean."

Ashley: (Her breath warm against your ear.) "You should be nicer to {{obj}}. Before someone else decides to appreciate {{obj}}."

You felt Andrew's gaze on you again, sharper this time. But he didn't say anything. He just stood there, watching, his green eyes unreadable.

The apartment was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing on the street below. The others were asleep - Ashley in her room, Andrew in his - and you were alone in the dim light of the living room, your hand reaching under the sofa.

You'd been careful. So careful. You'd stashed the food there weeks ago, hidden beneath the dusty fabric, a secret emergency supply for the days when the cupboard was bare. Canned beans, tomatoes, a few packets of instant noodles. Not much, but enough to keep you going if things got worse.

Your fingers brushed against the cool metal of a can, and you began to pull it out-

"Caught you."

You froze.

Andrew stood behind you, his silhouette dark against the faint light from the hallway. His green eyes gleamed in the shadows, sharp and amused. He was wearing a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, his messy black hair falling across his forehead.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

Andrew: "What are you hiding?"

You scrambled to push the food back under the sofa, but it was too late. Andrew had already seen.

Andrew: (Taking a step closer, his smirk widening.) "Don't bother. I saw it."

He crouched down, his long fingers reaching under the sofa and pulling out the stash. He examined the cans, the noodles, the small collection of food you'd been hoarding, and let out a low chuckle.

Andrew: "Well, well. Look at this." He held up a can of beans, turning it over in his hand. "You've been holding out on us."

You opened your mouth to explain, but he cut you off.

Andrew: (His voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge to it.) "You know, I'm almost hurt. All those nights I went hungry, and you had this hidden under the couch." He set the can down, his green eyes locking onto yours. "But I get it. You wanted to make sure you had something for yourself." A pause. "Smart."

*He stood, the stash still in his hands, and looked down at you with that infuriating smirk.

Andrew: "Here's the deal. If you share this with me, I won't tell Ashley."

He's blackmailing you?

Andrew: (As if he was reading your thoughts, his smirk softened into something almost fond.) "I'm negotiating. There's a difference." He set the cans down on the coffee table, then crouched in front of you. "I won't take all of it. Just... whatever you're willing to give. And I won't tell her."

He held out his hand, his green eyes searching yours.

Andrew: "Deal?"

The old sofa had finally given out.

It had been on its last legs for months—springs poking through the fabric, the frame creaking ominously every time someone sat on it. Tonight, it had collapsed completely, the wooden support snapping with a loud crack that echoed through the apartment.

You stood in the living room, staring at the wreckage, while Ashley leaned against the doorway, a smirk playing on her lips.

Ashley: (Her voice light, teasing.) "Well, that's inconvenient."

Andrew: (From the hallway, his tone flat.) "I'm not sharing a bed with you."

Ashley: (Tilting her head, her pink eyes gleaming.) "I didn't offer."

Andrew: "Good."

He disappeared back into his room, leaving you and Ashley alone with the broken sofa.

Ashley sighed dramatically, then turned to you, her smirk softening into something almost playful.

Ashley: "Looks like it's just you and me, roomie." She gestured toward her bedroom. "C'mon. My bed's big enough for two."

You followed her into the small bedroom, the mattress creaking as you both settled in. It was cramped—Ashley's room was cluttered with clothes and knick-knacks, and the bed was barely wide enough for two people.

Ashley lay on her side, facing you, her pink eyes scanning your face in the dim light.

Ashley: "You take up too much space, you know that?"

You sighed, you were literally on the edge

Ashley: (A laugh, low and amused.) "That's the problem." She reached out, her hand brushing against your arm, her touch light and lingering. "If your tits weren't so big, you'd have more room."

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Was she criticizing you? It sounded like it - but there was something in her voice, something in the way her fingers traced along your skin, that made you wonder.

Ashley: (Her voice dropped, softer now, almost teasing.) "They're kinda ridiculous, honestly. How do you even find clothes that fit?"

You manage, you said

Ashley: (Her hand slid up to your shoulder, her thumb brushing against the curve of your neck.) "I bet you do."

The room fell quiet. The air between you felt charged, strange, like something was hovering just beneath the surface.

Ashley: (Her voice was barely a whisper.) "You know, sharing a bed with someone is way more fun when they're not so tense." She shifted closer, her body warm against yours. "Relax. I don't bite."

She smiled, but there was something darker behind it - something that made your heart beat faster.

Ashley: "Unless you want me to."

The old sofa had finally given out.

It had been on its last legs for months - springs poking through the fabric, the frame creaking ominously every time someone sat on it. Tonight, it had collapsed completely, the wooden support snapping with a loud crack that echoed through the apartment.

You stood in the living room, staring at the wreckage, while Ashley leaned against the doorway, a smirk playing on her lips.

Ashley: (Her voice light, teasing.) "Well, that's inconvenient."

Andrew: (From the hallway, his tone flat.) "I'm not sharing a bed with you."

Ashley: (Tilting her head, her pink eyes gleaming.) "I didn't offer."

Andrew: "Good."

He disappeared back into his room, leaving you and Ashley alone with the broken sofa. But then Andrew reappeared, his green eyes fixed on you.

Andrew: "{{sub}} can share with me."

Ashley: (Her smirk faltering.) "What?"

Andrew: (His voice flat.) "You heard me. {{sub}} can share my bed. You take up too much space anyway."

Ashley: (Her eyes narrowing.) "I do not-"

Andrew: (Ignoring her, his gaze still on you.) "Come on."

The argument that followed was brief but sharp - Ashley's protests, Andrew's stubborn refusal to budge - and in the end, it was you who ended up in Andrew's room, standing awkwardly beside his bed while he closed the door behind you.

Andrew: (Sitting on the edge of the bed, his green eyes watching you.) "Well? Get in."

You climbed into the bed, trying to stay on your side. But it was cramped. Andrew was tall, his lean frame taking up more space than you'd expected.

Andrew: (Settling in beside you, his voice low and amused.) "You take up too much space, you know that?"

You were lterally on the edge, you said

Andrew: (A low chuckle.) "That's the problem."

He turned to face you, his green eyes scanning your body in the dim light. Then his hand moved, reaching out, and before you could react, he squeezed your breast.

You froze.

Andrew: (His voice was casual, almost bored, but there was a glint in his eyes.) "See, this is the reason you're taking up so much space." He squeezed again, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "If you had normal boobs—like Ashley's—I wouldn't be so distracted right now."

He didn't let go. His hand stayed there, firm and possessive, his green eyes locked onto yours.

Andrew: "You should probably do something about that. Or don't. I'm not complaining."