Prompt: Raimundo, Omi, Jack, and a brOTP.
More often than not, when Raimundo was looking for an opportunity to relax, he did not particularly care for Omi's company, much less Jack Spicer's-simply because Jack was Jack and Omi was Omi. But here he was in Jack Spicer's surprisingly clean and well-lit bedroom (his lair in the basement was under repair, apparently) playing truth-or-dare, of all things, with one egocentric cueball and a failure of a boy genius.
It wasn't that bad, all things considered. Jack was surprisingly good at coming up with decent enough truths and dares, and Omi was more than willing to perform even the dumbest of the dares. Raimundo only wished that Clay hadn't fallen asleep so early that evening-getting the older boy to don one of Mrs. Spicer's ridiculous cocktail dresses and a pair of her heels was the only thing he could think of that could top Jack wearing that pair of lime green hotpants earlier.