Chapter Text
It started, as most legendary disasters did, with a mug of coffee and one completely unnecessary thigh grab.
Po had leaned in to murmur something sweet and sinfully domestic to Thame—something about finishing each other's laundry, or a new recipe, or something else entirely married and coded—when his hand slid low under the breakfast table and rested, quite smugly, on Thame’s bare thigh.
Thame smiled like he’d just won a lottery no one else knew was being played.
Jun squinted from where he was sprawled half-asleep across Dylan’s shoulder. He was mid-sip of cereal milk, hair still damp from the shower Dylan had all but dragged him out of. “Oh? Is this how we’re starting the morning?”
Thame didn’t even blink. “You’re the one who made bedroom eyes at Dylan while he was brushing your hair.”
“I have bedroom eyes by default,” Jun said, flopping dramatically across Dylan’s chest. “And he has boyfriend hands. Of course he brushed my hair. With reverence.”
Dylan, sipping coffee like a hostage, nodded. “There was detangling.”
“Detangling,” Thame snorted, glancing pointedly at Po. “Cute. P’Po trimmed my split ends this morning. While I was still asleep. Now that’s trust.”
Jun perked up, affronted. “Dylan moisturized my face and neck. With his fingertips. Tenderly.”
Nano choked violently on his toast.
Pepper mumbled into his coffee, “What episode of our lives is this.”
Thame wasn’t done. “We made breakfast together. In matching aprons.”
Jun raised one deadly eyebrow. “We cooked shirtless. I let him fry things. That’s coordination.”
Dylan hissed, “You almost caught fire.”
“And it was romantic! Let me have this!”
Thame smirked, twirling a spoon like a villain. “P’Po and I synced our alarms to wake up to the same playlist. That’s literally brainwave intimacy.”
Jun gasped. “We share a toothbrush!”
Dylan choked. “We do not—”
“Metaphorically, Dillybean!”
Nano, sobbing faintly, whispered, “I didn’t ask for this.”
Po, hand still on Thame’s thigh, looked mildly amused. “We have couple’s skin care. P’Po lets me pop his pimples.”
“Not like you listen to me saying no anyways.” Po tried adding but neither of the two best friends at war were ready to pay his statement any attention.
“Oh, we’re going there?” Jun rolled off Dylan’s lap only to climb back on—sideways this time—legs draped dramatically over his boyfriend. “I fell asleep on Dylan’s chest last night, and he didn’t move for hours. Human mattress. That’s devotion.”
Thame, unbothered, flipped his hair and crawled closer to Po like he was reenacting a drama shoot. “That’s cute. We have matching towels.”
Jun gasped. “We shared a towel.”
Dylan’s face went crimson. “Jun—!”
Thame narrowed his eyes like a true warrior. “We coordinated our outfits without speaking.”
Jun’s voice was pure scandal. “We don’t even own matching outfits. We just swap clothes like it’s our birthright.”
Thame stood, placing his coffee down with the gravitas of a general. “P’Po rubs my shoulders every morning. And sometimes, my—”
“NOPE!” Pepper held up both hands. “Innocent ears.”
Jun gasped. “Dylan clipped my toenails!”
Dylan’s soul left his body.
Thame, not to be outdone, pointed at Po like he was a trophy. “P’Po shaved the back of my neck for me.”
“Dylan shaved my soul of past trauma!” Jun shouted, finger in the air like he was quoting scripture.
Everyone stared.
Jun blinked. “Too far?”
“No it’s fine keep going,” Nano said, staring brightly.
“Oh, Junie,” Thame purred, standing now with Po’s arm securely wrapped around his waist, “we’re married.”
Jun’s gasp was so dramatic it echoed. “You can’t drop the marriage card! That’s like...the nuke!”
“It’s not a nuke, Jun,” Thame said mildly. “It’s just legal affection.”
“Legal?!” Jun launched to his feet and pointed dramatically. “Dylan, I demand a marriage, an engagement ring. Or a sticker. Something shiny. Now.”
Dylan blinked up at him, still sitting. “We ate all the sticker packs.”
“Then we shall forge a ring from the foil of our love!”
Nano whispered, “I think Jun’s broken.”
Pepper nodded. “No, no. This is his final form.”
Thame kissed Po full on the mouth—loudly—and murmured, “Victory tastes like husband.”
Pepper whispered to Nano, “They’ve gone feral.”
Nano nodded. “We just have to let it play out.”
Jun, not to be outdone, grabbed Dylan’s face with both hands and launched into a kiss so deep it made even Nano drop his spoon. One leg curled around Dylan’s waist. Hands in his hair. Jun kissed him like he was trying to reboot the universe.
When they finally broke apart, both flushed and gasping, Jun declared, “We may not be legally married—yet—but Dylan calls me ‘babe’ when he’s sleepy. And sometimes, he makes soft animal noises when I snuggle him.”
Dylan, now blinking at nothing and trying to remember what year it was, still smiled faintly. “You say that like it’s a secret.”
Po leaned back, arm snug around Thame, and smiled. “I think we won.”
Thame, triumphant, kissed his cheek. “You think? Please. I dominated.”
Jun turned in Dylan’s lap like a thirteen-year-old defeated but emotionally unbothered. “Fine. But you only won on paper. Emotionally? We have better lore.”
Nano groaned. “I’m moving out.”
Jun grabbed Dylan’s cheeks, smooshed them together, and said, “Cause we’re the fan-favorite couple arc, and I’m gonna get you to call me ‘husband’ before the month ends.”
Dylan, cheeks still held hostage, mumbled, “You’re so competitive.”
Jun beamed. “Only when I’m losing.”
Dylan shook his head, kissed him—gently, like always—and said, “You’re not losing. Not even close.”
And somehow, that shut Jun up more effectively than any flex could.
Thame scoffed. “Ugh. Romantic and humble. Disqualified.”
Nano’s Tweet, 3 minutes later:
Live footage of the MARS house this morning.
It’s a soft war. A battle of boyfriends. I fear for our sanity.
#JunDylan #ThamePo #PDAbloodbath
Fan Comments:
- “THE DOMESTIC CHAOS IS EVERYTHING I NEED IN LIFE”
- “Mars house is now a live sitcom.”
- “Whoever edited the scene with war drums, ILU.”
- “ThamePo: we’re husbands. JunDylan: we’re competitive cuddly disasters.”
- “Respectfully, I’d still like to be the hoodie.”
- “Nano and Pepper are now the nation's emotional support bystanders.”
- “I can’t decide who won but I want a documentary.”
#MarsMadness #BattleOfTheBoyfriends #LoveWins
Dylan, now clinging to his last strand of sanity, sighed, “Can someone please pass the toast before another couple decides to confess using peanut butter metaphors?”
Jun reached for the jar and smeared some on Dylan’s cheek instead.
“I can’t even say I hate you anymore,” Dylan mumbled.
“You love me,” Jun corrected, licking it off. “And that’s why we win.”
Thame raised an eyebrow. “You’re really going to challenge a married man in front of his husband?”
Jun grinned. “Every damn morning.”