You know, originally i was gonna name this fic "Get one, Take three", then i changed it to "The Favorite". But then i told myself 'its my fic and i get to pick the cringe name', so here we are.
I began writing this as soon as Anne-exterminator was out, but for one thing and another i couldn't publish it until now. Also, it wasn't supposed to be THIS long lol. I cant never write short things T.T
Anyway. In essence, this fic runs on the idea (very prevalent today in the fandom) that Mr Boonchuy must've got along well with Marcy (and by extension, Mrs Boonchuy with Sasha). I wanted to explore that semi-familial relationship. And also i wanted to write the Boonchuys, because they're my favorite animated parents lol.
It felt weird calling them 'Mr and Mrs Boonchuy', so i picked the names Aran and On (respectively) from the fic of 'TheNightSlayer'.
Since we don't know that much about them, this fics is brimming with headcanons.
Enjoy!
The first decision the Boonchuys made as a couple, before even getting married, was how many children they'll have. Just one. A single child was all they wanted —both of them single child themselves. With how energy and time consuming a kid would be (not even mentioning the restaurant they were opening) they figured a single child would keep their hands busy enough. They were right. Anne proved to be hyperactive, endlessly curious, and more chaotic than someone her height should be. But the Boonchuys had taken that into account when they decided to be parents. They'd expected that.
What they haven't expected were Sasha and Marcy. Anne met the girls when she was six years old and now, at thirteen, the three of them were joined by the hip. They went to school together, goofed around together. Sasha and Marcy spent as much time in the Boonchuy household as they did in their own homes. The Boonchuys were alright with that. Relieved, even.
Some kids have friends who peer pressure them into doing drugs, joining a gang or badmouth their parents. Their own parents! This didn't mean Sasha and Marcy were the best of influences, tho. 'Stay out of trouble, you three' quickly became a catchphrase in the Boonchuy home. But everyone came with baggage, kids included. And the Boonchuys liked Sasha and Marcy. They couldn't help it. It was common to see the three girls slouched on the couch, or to see Sasha and Marcy wandering the house like it was their own. By this point, the Boonchuys considered them part of the family. Not their kids, no. They had their own kid, and Sasha and Marcy had their own families. But all things considered, On and Aran couldn't have picked better friends for their child.
Which one was the better friend, however, was the point of disagreement.
On was partial towards Sasha. The blonde girl had a bit of a 'bad reputation', and it was easy to see why. With her fierce temperament, her go-get-it attitude, and those pretty eyes which could turn into pools of hate in the span of a second, Sasha was a sight to behold. One single gaze and a flutter of eyelashes and she had her peers and most adults dancing to her tune.
But not On. Sasha and Anne had grown up side by side, and On had seen Sasha develop most of her tricks and had grown a thicker skin to them. An immunity, if you will. When people saw Sasha, they saw a princess, a menace, a leader, and a girl that was too good at lying for her own good; depending on Sasha's mood of the day. On saw a girl with 'permissive' parents —to not say negligent. A girl who was left alone too much from a young age and had learned to be self-sufficient. Who learn to lie and charm and fight to protect herself. A girl who sometimes made bad choices; a girl who could benefit from some guidance.
And none of this was On's problem. She'd a girl on her own, and Anne was a handful already. On couldn't deal with another girl's issues.
But years went by and Sasha and Marcy were a constant at the Boonchuy residence.
And Sasha liked metal. On had tried (God knows she'd tried) to put the love of heavy rock and roll into Anne. The girl liked music alright, but she just didn't have the 'metal bones'. Sasha, however, had taken to it like a frog to a pond. There was something about a 7 year old banging her head to Led Zeppelin that just renewed your hope for humanity.
It harms no one, thought On, to let the girl listen to my albums. Learn about the good music. And if Sasha wanted to play guitar and made a band with the girls, there was no harm in lending them the house to practice (on reasonably hours and never if they'd homework). They got good real fast. By the age of twelve they already had a few shows at school and the neighborhood. The Boonchuys were always on front row, screaming the lyrics and head banging to the jams. The girls would claim it was embarrassing, but they always searched for their faces on the public. Sasha, specially.
And then there was the play. One day, the girls rushed home from school, Sasha and Marcy talking one over the other, with a pouting Anne in the middle.
"All of the school plays are lame," Sasha explained. "But this one is cool 'cause me and Anne got the leads! I'll be the bad guy and have a sword and a hook and a super awesome costume. Anne can just wear a green tunic. Oh, and Marcy will help at backstage or something."
"I'm in charge of all the props and special effects," Marcy squealed like a rabbit —and hopped up like one, too. "Ooh, I have so. Many. Ideas you guys."
Through all this, Anne was quiet. Frowning and biting her anger down. On asked her if she wasn't excited. Sasha interjected that "Of course she was!"
On was furious. She took both girls apart and gave Anne a peep talk about not letting your friends peer pressure you. Then she gave Sasha a talk about not peer pressuring people. Both talks went into uncaring ears.
Livid as she was, On helped the girls with their costumes. 'Helped' in this case meant she supervised the girls as they did the sewing and gluing. Anne, beautiful Anne, wanted to bail on the costumes —and the play— at the go; but On stood her ground.
"You already gave your word you'd do it, you have to stick to it," she told Anne. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt you to have some extracurricular activities. It's what College Recruiters look for."
Anne whined that it wasn't fair but relented, if only for menace of further nagging.
On expected the same reaction from Sasha. She was wrong. Although she began rather slow and clumsy, Sasha took a liking to crafting, going as far as designing new costumes way better than the school's original ones. Both finished pieces looked beautiful and dashing. Even Anne had to admit she liked hers. Sasha, however, kept eyeing herself in the mirror, her face falling deeper and deeper into a desperate frown.
"Ugh. Look at these stitches. They're so messy. And the buttons just don't fit the color. This better not fall apart in the middle of the play." She sighed, looking more down than what On had ever seen her. "It sucks, doesn't it?"
Sasha looked at Anne when she asked, but hovered her gaze over On.
On felt her heart melt. "It looks excellent Sasha. For a first try, that's it." On squeezed Sasha's shoulder. "The next one will be much better. I'll teach you my secret stitching techniques, you'll see."
Sasha's smile was so sincere On nearly hugged the girl, but she resisted the urge (and so did Sasha).
Through the course of the years, On became Sasha's go-to-adult. When she wanted to vent about some dumb what-his-name from school, or how one of the teachers had a beef with her, or she was working on a new riff for a song and needed a second opinion, she always came to On first.
"Shouldn't you talk these things with your mother?" On dared to ask one day.
Sasha's answer was a curt: "No." They didn't discuss it further.
It harms no one, thought On, to let the girl vent a little. Give her some advice if she asks.
Likewise, Sasha proved to be interested in On as well. She'd sit down and ask about On's rebellious youth, or ask to tag along at Tai Chi classes as much as she'd come to vent. On appreciated the interest.
If some fool asked On if Sasha was a bad girl, she would tell them to go suck a lemon in Hell. Sasha wasn't a good girl but she wasn't bad either. It is bad to be strong-willed? How about passionate? Being blunt was wrong? No-nonsense? Protective of your loved ones? Creative? Proud of yourself?
No, it wasn't bad.
It harms no one, On decided. To give the girl a tilt in the right direction. Help her steer her boat and be the best version of herself.
And On didn't mind. Go big or go home, she'd always say. She knew Sasha believed so too.
Aran had a soft spot for Marcy. It went right from the beginning too. He was picking Anne from school one day and found her hand attached to the smallest girl possible. The little girl walked slowly and kept falling over, perhaps because her backpack was full of books. Her name was Marcy and Anne practically begged Aran to let her come home to play. Aran was about to explain how that would entail kidnapping a child —which was morally reprehensible and a crime— when Marcy's father became present. They briefly agreed the girls seemed pretty close and scheduled a day for a play date.
These play dates grew in frequency as weeks went by. Each time, Marcy came with her backpack full of books. One day, Aran peeped inside. He'd expected coloring books, fantasy books, kids stuff. He found ancient history and advanced math stuff; things the kids won't see for another four or five years. Intrigued —and a bit worried—, Aran asked Marcy if her father made her study so much. She gave him the strangest look.
"I don't read because my dad tells me. I do it because its fun and I love learning!" she said, with childish glee.
It would be good for Anne, Aran decided, to have a friend so enthusiastic about learning. Marcy's dedication might rub on Anne.
But it didn't. Anne simply couldn't match her friend in school —but again, neither could anyone else. Even the teachers were lost about how to teach someone as smart as Marcy. Anyway, grades weren't the most important thing in this world. The Boonchuys accepted —Aran sooner than his wife— that Anne would never be a straight A's student.
What they haven't foresight was the change Marcy would produce in their daughter.
Marcy was dotted with unmatched curiosity and intelligence, rivaled only by her nearly suicidal lack of attention. Not two seconds went by in which Marcy wasn't tripping, falling over, walking through a green light, smacking her face against a door, or simply standing still in the middle of the road.
"That girl is an insurance company worst nightmare," On said, frustrated. Perhaps she was right. But each time Marcy put herself in peril, Anne was there to get her out of it. Marcy had brought out a protective side of Anne her father didn't think existed. It melted Aran's heart. And it made him like Marcy a bit more.
And then there were the videogames. Ever since his mother had bought him a FamilyStation when he was a kid, videogames have been part of Aran's life. Some of Aran's fondest memories were with that old console; including watching the at-the-time teenager On yelling her lungs out after losing for the fifth time in a row. She would throw the controller down and declare videogames a waste of time. This happened every single time; she'd always been a sore loser.
Videogames were demoted to second place once he married. Not that On cared he played; Aran simply didn't have the time. Anne and the restaurant were too time consuming —Anne a bit more than the restaurant.
He came home one day to the sound of his FamilyStation. He went into the living room and found Marcy eyes glued to the TV. She was playing 'Legend of Xandria'. Aran's favorite game ever. Anne was backseating for Marcy, way less enthralled than her friend. The girls' homework for the day laid ignored on the floor. Aran ought to tell them something.
On the other hand, Marcy had reached the third temple and that was a tough one. Aran waited to hear the 'YOU DIED' music. After a few minutes, the 'VICTORY' tune was heard. Aran could scarcely believe it.
Anne shouted, equally surprised. "Wow! You beat that guy in just, like, one second! He was so big and mean I thought you would die!"
Marcy's face was red and she was trying to make herself small. "It wasn't that hard. His sword attacks are fast, but he left himself open when he uses his axe."
Aran was dumbfounded but pleased. "You know, it took me three months to figure that out? But you beat him on the first try. Good eye, Marcy." said Aran helpfully. Marcy looked at him like he'd told her she was getting a new pet for her birthday. It hit Aran that Marcy's dad might not be much into videogames. Poor kid maybe didn't even know adults like them too.
It would be good, Aran considered, if Marcy got a bit distracted from her study. Videogames never hurt anyone, right?
Unfortunately, Aran was a little behind in the videogames race. His mentality and experience was the same as his young adult self. With the years —and endless patience—, Marcy opened his eyes to what the new generation of games had to offer.
JRPGs were Marcy's favorites and he brought Aran into the craze. She also loved adventure games riddled with puzzles, or any game notoriously famous for being hard. Aran was partial towards action packed games, tactical RPGs and romance oriented visual novels. He valued the experience and the characters more than the plot. They both loved competitive games too, and challenged each other constantly. Anne would usually play with whoever had lost. Sasha would be there too, wasting time on her phone, gazing up only to remark on how boring the game was. It didn't surprised Aran when she began to hang with On.
Marcy was pretty quiet about her home life. Not like Sasha. Sasha could ramble for hours about her mother latest's misstep, which turned into an unforgivable sin in Sasha's telling.
Sometimes, however, Aran and Marcy would be playing online (as this only happened when they weren't face to face) and Marcy would drop some bombs. How much she missed her sister. How the kids at school would remark on her clumsiness. Or something about her dad. Mostly stuff about her dad. Aran didn't hate David Wu. The man was struggling financially, Aran understand that.
Aran also thought David had been in too much of a hurry to get rid of her eldest daughter when she received a scholarship.
One particular comment from Marcy stuck with Aran.
"Why don't you play games with your parents?" he asked on the mic as they battled their way through a horde of digital man-eating salamanders.
Marcy hastily said: "Games bore my mom. She doesn't really get them, you know? And my dad says they're a waste of time and money and I should be doing something else. And get my head out of the clouds."
The last part was said so fast Aran almost didn't catch it. He clenched his teeth, suppressing a sharp remark.
"Maybe you could put some of your ideas in paper? You know, creative writing. That'll convince your dad you're not wasting your time —which you're not, because videogames are food for your brain and soul."
Marcy laughed and perked up. "Oh! That reminds me of this new CaC campaign setting I'm running. The genre is Cyberpunk but it plays like your standard dungeon crawling setting. And my character is the rogue AI that trapped the heroes in the dungeon…"
She went on for a while, talking and slashing giant newts like one can breathe and walk. And Aran listened.
It would be good, Aran convinced himself, to let the girl ramble about her interests. To give her some attention. Maybe we could play the campaign in the kitchen on weekends?
Years went on in a flash. Everything happened so naturally, organically, the Boonchuys didn't know the girls had become family until On yelled at them to help set the table. Yes, all three of you, she clarified. Setting the table was family stuff, not guest stuff. Both of them caught on that. Anne, they believed, did too, because of the smile she dotted the whole dinner. Ever since then it was normal, once a week, to hear Anne say "Mom, can Marcy and Sasha stay up for dinner?"
These were the Boonchuys' favorite nights.
Again, this didn't mean they couldn't disagree on some topics.
Tonight, for example. It was dinner night for the extended Boonchuy family. Aran was heating up some water for an after dinner tea, as the girls played a game in Anne's bedroom. Aran and his wife were arguing.
In theory, parents aren't supposed to play favorites with their children. Also in theory, Sasha and Marcy weren't their biological kids, so here they were.
"All I'm saying is just because she aces all her tests doesn't mean she's smart," said On. "Or not as smartas everyone claims."
She was talking about Marcy. Aran loudly dropped the teapot over the stove. He felt the need to defend his gamer protégée.
"That's funny. In my time, that's what school tests were for," said Aran sardonically.
On lifted her hands as a peace gesture. "Just saying there are some basic skills that are very necessary in life and which can't be measured with a test."
Aran's eyebrows lifted in confusion. "All this because Marcy broke a cup?"
"Today, Aran," On corrected him. "Each time she's home for dinner she brakes a glass, or a plate, or a chair. How did she even break the chair, by the way?" she asked. Hell if Aran knew. "I'm tempted to buy her a plastic mug she can't break," she went on.
"So let's do it then," said Aran.
"No."
"Why not?"
On looked around and whispered. "Because that would be embarrassing and I won't do that to her."
Aran stifled a laugh. Old softie, he thought.
The pot was boiling. Aran served two cups of tea on the kitchen counter. He picked them and walked as he talked.
"So she's a little clumsy. I doubt that's a sin-"
Aran made a step and tumbled with his feet. On held a scream. Aran was caught by the table on his way down; the cups of tea landed safely on the table with a loud CLANK.
Aran straightened up under the smug gaze of his wife. "I didn't plan for that, but I think it illustrates my point." He sat down at the table. "Besides, she's still a blessing compared to Sasha."
On scoffed, and thought of something to retort. When nothing came to her, she sighed in defeat. "OK. So the girl doesn't make the best choices. And it's true sometimes she cut class and she doesn't have the best work ethic." She could keep listing things, but dismissed it with a hand wave. "Those are things you can learn. But you can never get the clumsy hands out of the clumsy girl."
"Try to remember that the day Sasha brings weed into this home." Aran smiled at his wife horrified gasp. "Because you know that's gonna happen, right?"
On put her cup down noisily. "Honestly, Aran! You're treating this thirteen year old like she's a common criminal."
"She decked a girl in the face the other day. She broke her nose!" Aran protested. "We had to bail her out, and it's not the first time."
On glanced slyly at her husband. "I went to jail once too, remember?"
Aran didn't know if he should scoff or laugh. "No. You were detained," he corrected. "And that was just because you started a mall fight over a blouse. And when the guard told you to calm down, you picked a fight with him."
On puffed her chest. "And I won."
"But did you have to make the poor guy cry?"
On shrugged. "If he felt touched for something I said about his mother, then there was some truth in it. But I wasn't talking about that," she said. "I meant about the 2001 concert. They detained me there too, remember?"
Aran shocked his head. Oh, he did remember.
"That doesn't count. It was a mosh pit related incident. Anyone can go to jail when there's a mosh pit." He blushed. "I should know. They took me in too for being with you."
On was thrown into a fit of laughter, but Aran became redder by the second. "You were so embarrassed! I don't think your mother ever forgave me for that."
A snicker escaped Aran lips. "Tell me if this sounds familiar:" Aran paused and spoke in Thai (and in a mockup of his mother's voice). "Oh, hello dear! If it isn't my dutiful son. Tell me, how are my beautiful granddaughter and that criminal wife of yours doing?" He switched back to English. "And she's like that every time I got her on the phone."
On chuckled, but her mood was subdued. She rested her head on her hand and looked at her face on the cup. She swirled the tea with her spoon.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I identify with Sasha on a personal level."
"Truly shocking," Aran teased her.
The topic got cold after that. They hanged in the comfortable silence, born of years of domestic life; each one sipping their tea and scrolling through their own phones.
On spoke with a hint of doubt. "You know? I think I have an idea on how to solve this rivalry growing between us."
"I wouldn't call it 'growing', but I'm all ears," said Aran.
Without a word of caution, On stood up and shouted at the ceiling. "Anne! Can you come down for a second?"
Anne shouted from upstairs. "Coming!"
Aran gave his wife a worried look. "Honey, what're you going to do? Ask Anne to choose between her best friends? She loves them both! It'll never work."
"Aran. You're my husband and I love you, but you're completely wrong," said On and ignored her husband's scoff. "We love the girls too and we have favorites, don't' we? I'm sure Anne does too."
Aran gave it some thought. "Maaaaybe," he relented. "But you can't just ask her that."
"I won't ask her anything. You will."
"What?! But what am I-"
Heavy footsteps approached and they went quiet. Anne was scrolling through her phone, but put it away as she reached the table.
Anne said. "Hey guys, what's up? Did something happen or…" she added at seeing her folk's awkward expressions.
On spoke firmly. "Anne, your dad has something to ask you."
Aran shared a look with his wife, but finally gave up and stood up.
"Heeey sweetie," he began. Then there was a long pause as Aran tried to think of something. Anne looked pretty as a painting and that didn't help Aran growing guilt. Finally, something came to him. "Tell me… you know that show you and your friends like? 'Suspects Island'?"
Anne grunted like the upset teenager she was. "It's 'Suspicion Island' dad."
Aran waved a hand. "Same thing, same thing," he said. "Let's suppose you were in the island. And you are trapped with Sasha and Marcy. You're gonna have to stay castaway for a while so you better get comfortable in there. But you cankeep just one of your friends around."
"Why? What happens with the other?"
Aran lost his momentum. "What?"
"Yeah, you said we're all stuck in the island but I only get to keep one friend. What happens with the other?"
"Those are the rules —I don't know." Aran hesitated. "She… you have to eat her."
"What?" Anne shouted. She covered her mouth and jerked, like she was about to throw up. "Oh my. Oh my God, Dad! Why would I ever do that?"
"You know, for protein and stuff. Isn't that what they do on that show?" Aran rationalized.
"No! Dad, they're not gonna eat someone on a Reality Show."
"That's Reality TV?!" Now it was Aran's turn to cover his mouth and jerk. "Good God! Why haven't anyone rescued these people."
"It's not that kind of show. They're not on 'Survivor'. It's not even a real island. They film on a set, not far from here," said Anne.
Aran was dumbfounded. "I don't get it. It's not a fantasy show. It's Reality TV but they're not actually in an island. There're no real stakes! Why do you even watch that show for?"
"Would YOU watch a show in which they eat one of the contestants?"
Aran doubted. "I mean, if it's someone I'm not fond of-"
"WHAT?!" Anne screamed, rattling the walls.
On lifted the cup to her face. Definitely drinking her tea and absolutely not hiding her wide smile at the academic debate that had pop up in her kitchen. Definitely. She got her composure back and put the cup down.
"I think what your father is trying to say is," On broke in. "If you were in an emergency, something dangerous and life threatening, and you could choose either Sasha or Marcy to assist you; which one would it be?"
Anne visible relaxed. "You mean, who would I chose to be trapped in an island with?" she asked.
"For example," On said.
This gave Anne pause and, in a calmer state now, she began to think. On and Aran waited patiently, legs bouncing under the table.
Anne let out a short whistle. "That's a hard one," she declared. "Let's see… hap hap hap… I guess my first choice would be Marcy. She's my oldest friend, and we get along so well. I wouldn't mind being trapped in an island with her. Actually, she's just the person you want in a crisis. She'd know everything about surviving on an island. Dang, she could make us escape in a makeshift raft. Or a makeshift boat. Or a makeshift plane fueled by coconut oil or something."
Anne's smile slowly turned into a painful grimace. "On the other hand, it's hard enough to keep her safe in LA. I don't even want to think about keeping her away from carnivorous plants or active volcanoes. And knowing Marcy, she'd probably find something 'interesting' to obsess about and she'd like to stay on the island. I'd to stay with her and we would never escape."
Aran found himself nodding along. Man-eating jungle plants are never a joke, and he could easily see Marcy torso stuck inside such a plant's mouth.
"And then there is Sasha," Anne went on. "Definitely someone you want around in an emergency. She's smart, never panics. A born leader. The other cheerleaders pretty much think she's God with blonde hair and a beauty mark." Anne grimaced again. "But Sasha also has them doing their chores while her mom's not looking. If we were stranded together, Sasha would make me do all the work. Even worst —do you guys know how she is when she's mad? If we got into a fight, she might leave for the other side of the island to evade me, and we would never escape."
On was ready to retort, but a quick glance of her husband humbled her. Yeah, she could see that happening.
"So, which one would it be Anne?" said Aran. "Smart and reliable?"
"Or fierce and decisive?" said On.
Strangely, Anne became nervous. It wasn't at all like the scandalized anger of before; she was sweating bullets, biting her lip, legs restless like she was ready to take off. Like she had been caught committing a crime.
She tried to form words but they came confused and shaky. "I don't… I don't know. I guess, from a practical point of view…" she trailed on, refusing to give a proper answer. "I don't know, guys. W-what would happen to the friend I don't chose."
"Honey, that doesn't matter," said On.
"But it does matter!" Anne protested. "I don't anyone to feel left out. W-what kind of friend would that make me? Sure, two people might survive on an island, but you need three to escape. That's what makes us so great! And this isn't Suspicious Island either. Sasha, Marcy and I wouldn't fight like that. We've always been together." She turned slightly red, and her eyes began to glisten with fury. "You guys can't ask me to choose just one of my best friends. I'm only thirteen!"
Seeing their child on the border of a panic attack pushed the parental protective button inside the Boonchuys. They rushed to Anne, hugging her at each side.
"Hey kiddo, hey, its fine. Calm down," said Aran, holding Anne's hand. "It was just an idea. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Right Honey?"
"Of course not," said On and stroked the girl's hair.
Anne let out a long gasp and covered her face to dissimulate a sniffle. She put herself together after a while, but she still looked shaken and embarrassed about her outburst.
"Right. Sorry about that," Anne scratched the back of her head. "Got a little worked up about that hypothetical."
On turned her daughter head to face her. "Yeah, what was that about?" she asked full of concern. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
Again, Anne began to heat up. A voice from upstairs distracted them. It was Marcy's.
"Aaaaanne! Where are you? I'm fighting Galash the Eldritch One already but I need a partner and Sasha can't help me!"
Then Sasha spoke too. "Yes I can. I just don't want to. Hurry up so we can finish the game and do something fun."
A loud gasp was heard and the Boonchuys plus Anne heard the beginning of a discussion about the multiple qualities of 'Quest for Galash'. Anne pulled back and looked at both her parents without a word. They understood and excused her to leave. She thanked them and left in as much of a hurry as she'd came.
The Boonchuys dropped on their chairs. They felt very tired and ear-redded about what they'd inadvertently provoked.
"That went well," said Aran.
On mumbled in affirmation. "You're right. It was a mess. My bad."
Aran nudged his wife side. "It was worth a try."
There was a last matter, however, that was picking at Aran's brain. He felt the need to share it with his wife.
"Honey, do you think-"
Aran was stopped by On's soft laugh. "Yes, Aran. I do think our daughter's a lesbian."
Aran beamed. "Great! Finally something we both agree on."
He got up to clean the table. Both cups of tea were half-finished and already cold.
"She's going to marry Marcy, tho," said Aran mischievously.
On gave him an exasperated look. "Seriously? You want to do this again?"
"Yes," Aran leaned over to pick up On's cup of tea. His lips brushed discretely against his wife's. "You look cute when we're arguing."
On got heated up and dodged his husband's sly gaze. She spoke softly in Thai. "Quiet you."
And that was it!
I hope you guys liked it. It was a very specific itch i had to scratch. And i had a blast writing the Boonchuys lol. Most of the stuff is probably not canon complaint, but whatever.
Anyway, as usual like and comment if you liked it!