Work Text:
The rec room smells like stale coffee and disinfectant—Blue taps his fingers against the armrest, leg bouncing. Ryan’s buried in paperwork, jaw tight.
"Hey." Blue flicks a crumpled napkin at his brother’s temple. "Bet I can fit eight marshmallows in my mouth."
Ryan doesn’t look up. "Don’t."
Blue grins, nudges Ryan’s boot with his own. "C’mon, Lieutenant Grumpy."
Ryan snaps—one moment Blue’s smirking, the next he’s yelping as Ryan tackles him off the couch. They crash into the coffee table; Blue wheezes, pinned beneath Ryan’s forearm.
"You’re a dumbass," Ryan growls.
Blue, breathless, laughs. "Y’love it."
Ryan sighs. He does.